


The Darkness in Our Souls

by etherina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Death, Dementors, Don't Like Don't Read, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Patronus, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 44
Words: 118,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherina/pseuds/etherina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is a witch who attends Hogwarts, Petyr Baelish is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He teaches her what it means to be a Slytherin.</p><p>*On hiatus until further notice</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that's been in my head for a while so I figured I should write it down. Some scenes are inspired from the Harry Potter movies and I will link the key scenes. I'm not really an expert on Harry Potter so forgive me for any mistakes lol
> 
> Important: Most characters from Harry Potter are replaced with Game of Thrones characters. Voldemort has not existed.

 

It was to be Sansa Stark’s sixth year at Hogwarts. From her first year to her fourth year, she had excelled in her studies, always at the top of her class, but ever since her family’s execution by the Ministry during her fifth year, her grades had dropped severely.

The evidence against her father was nonexistent but the supposed witnesses against him were adamant. The Lannisters, another pureblood family, claimed to have seen him use dark magic. They even went so far as to accuse her family for hiding dark artifacts in their ancestral home, Winterfell.

Sansa’s father, mother, brother Robb, and even her half-brother Jon had been executed. Sansa, her sister Arya, and their younger brothers Bran and Rickon had been _spared_ because of their young age.

Bran and Rickon had been sent off to live with their aunt Lysa — a squib with little patience for magic simply because she didn’t have it herself. Only a few months after moving in, however, all three of them died in a car crash. Lysa had been drinking and was foolish enough to bring the children for a ride. It ended straight against a truck.

Sansa and Arya had been sent off to live in the Lannisters’ care. It was decided by the Ministry so they could learn _proper_ wizarding customs and traditions. Ned Stark’s open acceptance to muggleborns and muggles was widely disliked amongst the other pureblood families, such as the Lannisters, and they seemed to believe that he had been neglecting teaching his children about the magical world.

The Ministry also approved of the betrothal between Sansa and the eldest Lannister son, Joffrey. He was deemed a good match for her. Once, perhaps, Sansa would have been happy to learn that she would wed him. He was everything you were _supposed_ to want. He was pureblood, rich, blonde, and a gallant Gryffindor.

However, she had seen the truth of him in time. He had started with cruel words —insults thrown here and there, mocking her father’s death — but spells soon followed, and Sansa’s hope that she would live happily ever after was then nothing but dust.

When Margaery Tyrell came into the picture, Sansa was thrown to the side, rendering Joffrey available to be betrothed once again. Nevertheless, the Lannisters’ idea of joining family houses remained and there was talk of marrying Arya to Joffrey’s younger brother, Tommen, when they got older. Not that Arya was very keen on marrying anyone.

”You bought a new wand today, didn’t you?” Joffrey asked sharply, snapping Sansa back to reality.  She kept her head down, not wanting to look him in the eyes, and kept walking through the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express. She didn’t want to be in his company but getting rid of him without punishment would prove a difficult feat, one that Sansa never attempted.

“Yes,” she answered and kept walking, anxiously looking for a free compartment.

“Let me see it then,” Joffrey ordered and his friend Ramsay shook her shoulder roughly, only to unsettle her.

She sighed and pulled the wand out of her sheath by her wrist. Her last wand had been faulty in some way — probably because of the many times Joffrey had taken it from her to experiment — but this one felt much better. It was entirely made of weirwood, the white color in strong contrast to her school robes, and twisted like it was a growing branch. Ollivander had told her that it did not need a core — that the tree itself was powerful enough on its own.

As soon as she held it out for Joffrey to look at, he snatched it from her hand and held it away from her. Instantly feeling helpless by her lack of defense, she tried to reach for it but Ramsay pushed her away.

“Give it back!” she pleaded, careful not to raise her voice too much, but Joffrey only sneered at her.

“Is that the way you speak to me? Well, I think I’ll keep it.” She knew that he wouldn’t keep it for long, it wouldn’t obey him, but that didn’t stop the anger from surging through her.

“I’m serious, Joffrey!” she said and tried to reach for it again but Ramsay opened the door to a compartment behind her and shoved her in, closing the door with a bang after her. With a wave of his wand, the lock clicked into place and she was stuck.

She banged on the door and felt tears burning in her eyes while the two boys only laughed at her before walking away gleefully.

“It’s not funny…” she whimpered and rubbed her sore fists.

She turned around, tears running down her cheeks, and was startled to see that someone was already in there. The man’s face was obscured by his cloak as he slept, leaning against the window. He didn’t seem to be a student — he was far older judging by the streaks of grey in his dark hair. Not that he was anywhere near the age of Dumbledore or professor McGonagall, just older than any student would be.

Sansa quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks and tried not to sob. She didn’t want to wake him, even though she thought it strange that he had not woken up from the banging.

She didn’t feel like dwelling on it and instead sat down across from him, looking out the window as she felt another tear fall down. She angrily wiped it away while watching the trees sweep by, one by one.

Hogwarts was, in a way, a safe place for her. She didn’t have to live with the Lannisters and she could avoid Joffrey well enough since they were in different school houses. Being placed in Slytherin was both a blessing and a curse it seemed.

While Joffrey had been celebrated by his family for being in Gryffindor, she had been given a _serious talk_ for being in Slytherin. Her father had always told her that those in Slytherin were up to no good, and she had seen the disappointment in his eyes when she had told him of her sorting.

Not that she cared much for school houses anymore. It didn’t say much about the personality of someone. Sansa wasn’t particularly ambitious or traditional. In fact, she didn’t really know why she was in Slytherin at all.

_Perhaps I just don’t fit in like I should,_ she thought ruefully. _Perhaps I’m just a wrongly carved piece of the puzzle._

She was startled again when the door opened and Margaery stepped in with Sansa’s wand held in front of her. Margaery smiled softly and sat down to give Sansa a warm hug.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispered, still careful not to wake the man in the compartment.

“No problem. I’ll try to keep Joffrey away from you as much as possible, okay?” Margaery said and smiled that bright smile of hers.

“Okay. You have anything to eat? I’m starving,” Sansa asked as she felt her stomach ache.

“Yeah, but it’s just some chocolate.” Margaery pulled out a bar from her pocket and gave it to Sansa who tore up the paper and took a bite.

“Why are you starving?” Margaery asked with a breathy laugh but stopped when Sansa looked at her.

“Because Arya jinxed Joffrey yesterday and for punishment she and I were both sent up to our room without dinner. We didn’t get any breakfast this morning either,” she whispered and Margaery rubbed her back gently.

“That’s very cruel, but just think of the feast when we arrive! There will be lemon cakes, I’m sure,” Margaery said reassuringly and Sansa couldn’t help but smile widely. Lemon cakes have always been her favorite.

“I should go back to him,” Margaery then said and Sansa nodded, knowing she meant Joffrey. He didn’t really have patience.  She left the compartment silently and Sansa was once again left with the stranger whom was still asleep, astoundingly, and hadn't moved an inch.

Sansa took another bite of the chocolate and continued to look out the window. It started raining and it was dark as the night outside, despite the time only being 3 in the afternoon. _It must be storming._

Suddenly, the brakes of the train screeched and they started slowing down. The train came to a jerking halt in, seemingly, the middle of nowhere and Sansa knew that they were not at Hogwarts yet. It would take almost an hour before they would arrive.

It was eerily silent, only her breathing could be heard. She felt a chill travel down her spine, piercing her very core. She breathed out and jumped in her seat as she could see her breath escape her lips in a mist.

She pulled her coat tighter around her and heard a crackling as ice quickly formed on the window. The lights flickered out and darkness surrounded her. She frantically looked around, trying to see something, only to be startled again by the faint sunlight that managed to escape the clouds and pierce through the ice covered window. It wasn’t much but enough for her to see.

The train shook violently and she sucked in a breath, her heart beating faster than she knew possible. It was bitingly cold, far worse than winter in the north, and the train creaked from the chill. It shook again, more aggressively, and she couldn’t stop the yelp from escaping her tightened lungs.

That’s when she saw it — the figure outside her compartment, its cloak torn and dark. It moved silently. She saw its spindly hand reach for the handle of the door and she sat frozen, staring at it in unveiled horror.

The door opened without a sound and she held her breath. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

The creature’s long claws grabbed the edge of the door and opened it slowly, creeping inside like it knew that Sansa was too afraid to defend herself.

The dark cloak was like a part of its body, covering all but the gaping hole that was its mouth. It came closer, a raspy sound coming from its throat, and Sansa felt as if something was pulled out from her chest, straight out through her mouth. Like her very soul was being drained out.

She let out a breath with the pull, feeling pain, endless pain fill her instead. She wanted to scream but she heard no sound coming out. There was only the sound of the creature.

Suddenly, light invaded her eyes forcefully and the pain stopped with a sudden shock. All that was heard was a wolf’s howl and she felt herself go limp.

-

She stirred, feeling a warm hand resting on her shoulder heavily. The familiar light and sound of the train was comforting and she slowly opened her eyes only to be met by an unfamiliar face. By the looks of it, it was the man who had been asleep in her compartment before.

“Are you alright?” the man said huskily, smirking as he spoke. It soothed her and scared her at the same time. She suddenly remembered what had happened and shivered at the awful memory. Horror pierced through her again and she sat up, shaking visibly.

“What was that thing?” she managed to breathe out and calmed herself with the heat that flowed into the compartment. It had been so cold before.

“That was a dementor. It must’ve escaped Azkaban somehow. You don’t have to worry, it’s gone now,” he said and she relaxed automatically. He still had a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

“You’re Sansa Stark,” he said when she calmed down and she looked up, startled.

“Yes, and you are?” she asked kindly. He smiled but still did not look very happy.

“Petyr. Petyr Baelish.” He didn’t offer any further information but she didn’t need it. She remembered the name.

“I remember you. You were in the Ministry during,” she dropped her voice to a sorrowful whisper, “the trial.”

“Yes. But you shouldn’t think of that now, sweetling. Think happy thoughts,” he rubbed her shoulder a bit and then moved to sit across from her. _Sweetling?_ She thought, finding the nickname strange. No one had called her that before, but she supposed he said it to calm her. She couldn’t tell if it helped.

“I can’t think of any happy thoughts,” she whispered after a while, mostly to herself, but he raised his head indicating that he had heard her.

“Oh, surely you can think of something? Think of summer days, sweets, and lemon cakes,” he said and leaned back, still smirking. She looked up at him suspiciously, feeling her heart speeding up nervously.

_Was he awake? Did he hear me and Margaery? Did he hear… more?_ He only smirked knowingly at her and she couldn’t read his expression fully, other than that he was amused.

“Why are you on the train anyways? Isn’t it reserved for students?” she changed the subject quickly. “Something tells me you are not a student. You’re too old.”

He chuckled at her comment which surprised her. For some reason, she got the feeling that he did not laugh very often.

“I’m the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He studied her closely and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. _Gods, I just told him I thought he was old._ “What year are you in, Sansa?”

“Year six,” she answered, swallowing down her embarrassment.

“I see,” he said and she smiled cautiously at him. He was kind, something that Sansa found most people not to be, but it also wasn’t very hard to keep up a pleasant façade. She didn’t quite know what to think of him.

“Your sister goes to Hogwarts as well, doesn’t she?” he asked and Sansa nodded, focusing on her hands in her lap as she fidgeted.

“Yeah, year three. Watch out for her, she’s not very… easy to control,” she warned with a smile and he chuckled again — a husky sound that she found herself enjoying. She mentally scolded herself for it.

“We’ll see about that. I can be very controlling.” It was perhaps meant to be intimidating but Sansa didn’t feel like cowering away from him like she did with Joffrey. Still, she frowned at him a little at that statement.

“Like professor Snape?” He raised an eyebrow at her and had a sly look on his face.

“Worse,” he whispered and she felt a shiver trail down her spine, though not in fear as she was used to. She smiled at him daringly, feeling rather reckless.

“I don’t believe you.”

He stared at her, his eyes feeling impossibly dark, daring her to leave the words in the air and not take them back. The train suddenly slowed down and the brakes shrieked again, the trees outside looking awfully familiar. _It’s too soon, isn’t it?_

“How long was I passed out?” she exclaimed and then blushed at her accusing tone.

“Long.” He stood up with a smirk tugging at his lips. _Gods, will he ever stop that?_ It made him look far too smug for Sansa’s liking.

“Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to have to have a word with the driver,” he said and opened the door.

“Alright,” she said, feeling strangely disappointed that he had to leave. He was just about to step out before she interrupted. “Oh, and thank you for… you know… helping me.” He didn’t look at her, just nodded and walked out with sure steps.

* * *

**[  
✧](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQ6-h2zeBfg) [Wand inspiration](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0f/d2/95/0fd295bdf568b59a3e3fbaed29279df8.jpg) **

**[✧ Scene inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQ6-h2zeBfg) **


	2. the School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter ayee, enjoy!

The feast was as grand as always. The tables were filled with all kinds of food; Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, meat pie, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, gravy and so much more.

Sansa’s mouth watered from the smell and sight. She felt her stomach rumble and waited patiently for professor Dumbledore to finish his speech. She hadn't listened to a single word yet and simply hoped that it had not been too important.

“And as you may know, there was an incident on the Hogwarts Express during your travels. No one was injured and it will not happen again.” Dumbledore offered the students no further explanation to what had happened and Sansa could hear them whisper their theories.

 _Do they not know? Was I the only one who was attacked?_ She thought almost felt like laughing wryly at the principals words; _no one was hurt._ She felt pretty hurt. In so many ways.

All the horror she had endured was so painful; the execution of her father, mother and brothers. The accident that led to the death of her younger brothers. The torment of living with Lannisters.

She was so broken inside and the incident on the train had not helped. It had only shattered her more.

She looked past the principal and was instantly drawn to the green eyes of Petyr Baelish, or was it professor Baelish now? She must've missed Dumbledore’s introduction of him. She hadn't noticed that his eyes were green. She had somehow learned to hate green eyes because it reminded her of the Lannisters and most of all Joffrey.

But Baelish’s eyes were different. They were like green moss fused with streaks of dark smoke and impossible to look away from. They weren’t emerald.

He didn’t wear that smirk she had seen before. His face was like stone and he looked straight at her. Doing the small courtesy of smiling didn’t seem right to Sansa. She imagined what her own face looked like; the face of a broken girl who had once dreamt her life to be a fairytale.

She had learned that her life wasn’t a fairytale. The world was cruel and not even good people could change that, she had tried herself. She had pleaded for her family in front of the ministry but only a few votes had cut her hopes down and her actions hadn’t changed the outcome one bit.

“Sansa?” Jeyne, one of her _friends_ said and Sansa tore her gaze from the green eyes and turned to the brown haired girl next to her.

“Hmm?” she made the sound like a question.

“Why aren’t you eating?” She asked and Sansa looked around, a bit confused, and saw that everyone else had already started filling their plates and stuffing their mouths with the delicious food.

“Oh, I was just… lost in thought.” She smiled at Jeyne who seemed to completely believe the smile she was given. Sansa looked in professor Baelish’s direction again but this time he didn’t look at her and was instead engaged in a conversation with professor McGonagall. _Maybe I just imagined the whole thing._ She thought and filled her plate with food.

-

When the desserts finally appeared, Sansa was delighted to see the lemoncakes placed right in front of her. She immediately reached out and bit into one of them. The sweetness of the fluffy cake mixed with the striking flavor of lemon from the glaze made her tongue tingle with sensation.

It was the most pleasant feeling to just live in the moment and not think of the terrible past. But the moment was soon lost as she found herself lonely in a hall full of people.

None of her _friends_ talked to her very much. They all knew what had happened to her family but it was not like they had been her friends before that. Actually, Sansa didn’t quite know any of them. The only one she knew relatively well was Jeyne but only because they grew up in the same town.

The friendship with Jeyne hadn't been very good from the start anyways. Jeyne had a silly way of being sometimes and Sansa had always found herself uncomfortable when such incidents occurred. And after what had happened with the ministry, Sansa distanced herself even more from Jeyne.

The brunette still believed in fairytales and had tried to tell Sansa how much better it would become. _You’ll marry some rich great wizard and you will have lovely little children who will all be wizards and witches._ Sansa didn’t care about such thing anymore. She used to be infatuated with Joffrey and had only recently realized how cruel and horrible he was.

Some of the chairs moved further down the table and a few students left the hall. Sansa sat placed and nibbled on another lemon cake while more and more people stared to leave, one after the other. After an hour, only about twenty students were left, including Sansa, Jeyne and some other people she did not know the names of.

When Jeyne and the two other people at the Slytherin table rose, so did Sansa. She probably wasn’t going to hang out with them though. She would simply go to the common room and occupy herself with whatever she could find.

Just when she started walking with her group, she heard the deep voice from further behind.

“Stark.” She turned around, startled by the sudden sound, and saw professor Snape walking towards her only to come to a halt a few feet before her.

“Yes, professor?” she said and felt how small her voice was. She wasn’t actually afraid of him but his authority made her tremble.

“Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you.” He said with no emotion whatsoever and started walking, his cape moving with the sharp turn.

She looked to Jeyne and faked a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Jeyne nodded in understanding and Sansa hurried after Snape. She didn’t know the password after all. In fact, she had never been sent to the headmaster’s office before but could guess why he wanted to speak with her now. She was frightened nonetheless.

They arrived at the stone gargoyle and Snape motioned for Sansa to stand beside it.

“Toffee Éclair.” He said in his deep voice and the gargoyle started to slowly spin upwards, revealing a stone staircase. Sansa carefully stepped onto it, letting it bring her higher up. The staircase seemed to be going on forever but it finally came to a halt and a large wooden door was revealed.

Sansa walked with weary steps toward it and jumped when it suddenly opened for her. _You know doors open by themselves, don’t be so scared._ She told herself but the worry about everything still resided deep in her chest.

She walked into the room where she saw both Dumbledore and Baelish waiting for her. They were both about the same height but looked very different. Dumbledore wore a grey cloak and had his long white beard hanging over his chest. He looked warm and friendly, like someone’s favorite grandpa.

Baelish, however, had a different aura around himself. His cloak was black and a silver mockingbird pin was fastened by his collar. He wasn’t warm and welcoming but Sansa felt herself drawn to him anyways. She felt like a fly that couldn’t help but be drawn to the light of a flame that could burn her up.

“Sansa.” Dumbledore greeted gently and she winced slightly when the door creaked and shut behind her. She was nervously fidgeting with her sleeves as she now stood before them both; only a desk was between.

“Would you mind explaining what happened on the train, Sansa?” the headmaster asked and she sucked in a ragged breath. She felt her fingers grow cold by the thought of it.

“Umm…” she wasn’t sure where to begin. Should she tell them about Joffrey and Ramsay? No, no they can’t know. If she tells, she will be punished by Cersei, or worse, by Joffrey.

“The train stopped and everything went cold.” Her breath staggered. “Uhh, then this… thing came in and I… I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe.” She felt tears burning in her eyes, not just because of the memory but of everything that she had suffered through.

“It all turned dark and it felt like I was being pulled away from my own body. All I heard was a wolf’s howl.” She tried to gather herself.

“You don’t have to say more.” Dumbledore assured when he saw her struggles and she released a breath, feeling drained. A tear escaped her eye and fell down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, not wanting to sob.

“Why... Why did that happen?” She asked carefully, genuinely wondering. Baelish had said that it had escaped Azkaban. She had heard of the dementors that guarded the prison but why did it attack her? Why was it outside?

“Somehow, the dementor managed to escape Azkaban, we don’t know how. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them…  Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. You happen to have quite a lot of bad experiences.” Baelish said and looked her over.

Her tears had started to dry up and she just stared at him blankly. _The dementor wanted me because I am broken?_ It somehow fueled her dread.

“Don’t scare the girl, Baelish.” Dumbledore said and looked at her again.

“I can assure you it will not happen again. It has already been brought up with the ministry.” She looked down at the mention of the ministry. They were all bought. If they hadn't been so corrupt, all of her family would still be alive. She knew who owned them as well; Lannisters, Boltons, Freys, Tyrells. It was impossible to fight them. The only decent ones were the Tyrells and they owned the least people.

“Thank you…” she said and looked up at them again, a fake smile on her lips. None of them seemed to believe it but Dumbledore nodded at her nonetheless, while Baelish only studied her with his green gaze.

“Would you please fetch your sister, I should like to speak to her.” Dumbledore said and Sansa frowned in concern.

“Did it happen to her as well?” She had never really been close to Arya but she was the only one left of her family. The thought of having her sister go through _that_ made Sansa worry deeply. It was like a lump was constantly in her chest, filling her with all these horrible emotions.

“No, you were the only one affected.” Baelish said and Dumbledore continued; “She has already gotten herself in some trouble.” He explained and Sansa sighed, both in relief and disapproval of her sister’s actions. Of course she had gotten into trouble, that’s how Arya was.

“I’ll fetch her.” Sansa said and walked out after getting a nod of approval from Dumbledore. The wooden door opened and she stepped on the stairs, going down again.

-

Arya was in Gryffindor and had gotten practically praised for it. Their father had been in Gryffindor and he had been noticeably relieved that Arya wasn’t in Slytherin like Sansa was. She wasn’t jealous though. Arya had always gotten into trouble and being in Gryffindor was one of the few things that Eddard had seen as an accomplishment.

Sansa had always been the good child; doing what she was told. Being in Slytherin was the only, well, _failure._

Arya probably didn’t like being in Gryffindor now though; Joffrey was in the same house after all. As was Ramsay. She would have to deal with them far more than Sansa would. But Arya was feisty and never backed down like Sansa.

She finally arrived outside the portrait of the fat lady.

“Is Arya in there?” She asked and the lady in the painting harkled.

“She is.” The lady didn’t say anything else and didn’t seem very good at reading Sansa’s expression, so she asked another question.

“Can I talk to her?” Sansa said, slightly annoyed. The lady gave off a _hmmm_ in thought and pretended to think about it just to spite her. She certainly didn’t like Slytherins.

“Fine.” She finally said and disappeared. A few minutes later, the painting moved as a door and Arya stepped out. She looked angry.

“What?” She exclaimed and gestured with her hands in annoyance. Sansa rolled her eyes at her behavior but otherwise, pretended not to notice.

“Dumbledore wants to see you. I think the password is _Toffee Éclair_.” Arya huffed and started walking toward his office while Sansa walked to the Slytherin common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated! Have any ideas for future scenes? Any wishes? Concerns? Let me know! 
> 
> Quote:
> 
> "Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them… Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life."- found on Harry Potter wikia


	3. the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter here! I really appreciate all the positive comments and it really keeps me going! 
> 
> If you would like to read something inspired by a specific scene in any of the HP movies, feel free to comment and I'll see if I can make it happen!
> 
> Thank you, I love you all<3

First class went by rather quickly. Herbology wasn’t her favorite subject but it wasn’t terribly boring. The next class went by far too slow in Sansa’s opinion. Potions were hard and it had all these rules that seemed impossible to go by.

You had to have the correct ingredients and add them at the right time, if not, it was ruined. You had to keep the heat at a specific temperature with different potions, if not, it was ruined. You had to stir the pot but not too fast and too slow, just right, if not, it was ruined. How was she supposed to know all this?

When the class finally ended, she sighed in relief and picked up her books. Next class was Defense against the Dark Arts and Sansa found that she had been excited about this class all day. Perhaps it was just ambition driving her forward or perhaps it was the green eyes that she longed for; filled with secrets.

She couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Something always seemed hidden behind the invisible mask he wore and she wanted to know what it was. She was intrigued beyond belief.

She walked into the classroom and sat down in the front corner. She found that it was the most promising position; far enough in the front to look like a good student and far enough to the side to remain unnoticed if it pleased her.

As usual, her classmates left her alone. They often times liked to talk during class but Sansa had never done so, always being the good student. After the first year, they had given up on trying to coax her into being a rebel.

The students chattering came to a stop when the large wooden door in the back of the classroom slammed shut and professor Baelish entered. He was once again dressed in his black cape and silver mockingbird pin.

He whipped out his black wand and slammed the windows shut one by one with a swift motion of it. His steps were secure and full of authority and Sansa felt herself shrink in her chair by mere instinct. She jumped slightly when the last window shut right beside her.

He stood in the front of the classroom and turned around, his name being written by a piece of chalk on the blackboard. She saw his faint smirk and noticed that it wasn’t very welcoming. He was intimidating in a way and the sudden change of personality confused Sansa.

Did he have more masks than one? She knew almost for certain that he had one to hide his secrets but this was different. This was like he tried to be another person to establish authority. And it worked. She cowered to him.

“I am professor Baelish, your new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Let’s get one thing clear; I am fully aware of the rumors about this position to be jinxed and I do not want to hear any more of it.” His voice was as husky as usual but there was darkness behind his words; a warning to not trifle with him.

The hall was silent with understanding. None dared to speak.

“Now, turn to page 426.” He said and met her eyes for a second before he looked away. She opened her book and started looking for the right page. After a while, Baelish seemed to have lost his patience with her and made her book turn to the right page with a flick of his wand.

She sucked in a breath, startled, and looked up at him, almost glaring but not quite. He only stared her down and she saw the other students were looking nervously. Sansa dropped her eyes in defeat and looked down on the page; _non-verbal spells._

She let out a small sigh. She had always been uncertain with her spells and non-verbal ones were even more advanced. Before she could do anything else she felt a shadow loom over her. She let her gaze travel up and then met his green stare. His expression was like made of stone and there was something dark in his eyes.

“Something wrong, miss Stark?” his lips barely moved as he spoke and her name was almost a hiss from his tongue. She shook her head with such little movement that it might as well not count.

“No, professor.” She sounded surprisingly confident but inside she was terrified. His gaze burrowed into her like fire and all she could do was sit still.

“Good.” He finally said and walked over to the blackboard while she released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Thankfully, it was all theory that lesson and no practical. She was sure that she would fail once they got to that.

They all started to gather their things on his command as he gave them their assignment.

“I want a full page assignment on non-verbal spells and counter spells by next lesson.” He instructed and Sansa thought for a second. _Next lesson is the day after tomorrow._ She saw that other students cast glances at each other but only Sansa dared to bring up the issue.

“Professor.” She said and held her hand raised until he met her eyes.  “It’s quidditch tomorrow, which means that some of us will barely have any time at all to write the assignment.” She knew that she wouldn’t have much of a problem. Sure, she was the seeker for the Slytherin quidditch team but she had a lot of spare time otherwise. She mostly just stuck up for the others in this question.

He placed a hand on her desk and leaned closer; his face merely inches away from hers as his eyes studied her. She could smell the mint on his breath and saw every little detail in his eyes.

“Then I suggest you take extra care, miss Stark. Loss of limb will not excuse you.” His voice was husky and low, sending shivers down her back.

 _Why is he so cruel? I don’t understand. Why is he targeting me?_ She was frightened, truly. His words were like a scolding and she felt like shrinking down in her chair but then she realized; _He is trying to prove that he can be worse than Snape. He is toying with me. It is all a game._ It was a cruel, strange and exhilarating game, one that she wanted to play just for the sake of playing.

He must’ve sensed her realization because she saw his mouth turn into just the slightest smirk before returning to the stone mask he had before.

No one else seemed to have noticed his change; it was too subtle. He distanced himself from her and she packed up the last of her things and walked over to Jeyne who had waited for her by her bench.

“Why does he hate you so much?” Jeyne leaned in and whispered in Sansa’s ear as they walked toward the door but before she could answer, Baelish spoke.

“Miss Stark, I’d like to speak with you.” He said coldly but Sansa didn’t feel discouraged now that she knew it was an act. She nodded for Jeyne to go and stood with her back still turned to him. The door closed in front of her and she turned around, a slight smirk similar to his on her face.

“I have to admit, I was terrified. I suppose you win the award for the most frightening teacher.” She jested and was happy to hear him chuckle low. She smiled and walked up to his desk. For some reason, he felt like a friend, more so than the rest in her class.

“I’m glad to see you caught the notion. You are far cleverer than you think.” He said with a smirk and she felt herself blushing. She wasn’t used to compliments, only rude comments from Cersei or Joffrey.

“Umm, what did you want to speak to me about?” she changed the subject and he seemed to remember himself.

“Ah, yes, I wanted to ask you why you lied.” His expression was sly and she frowned at him.

“I haven’t lied.” She said but held an uncertainty in her voice. What did he mean?

“In the headmaster’s office. You didn’t tell him why you were in that compartment alone with a stranger.” She stared at him and he stared back; challenging her. She swallowed a lump in her throat. _So he did hear. He was awake._

“Technically I didn’t lie. I just… withheld information…” She stated and fidgeted with her hands nervously. She hadn't expected him to know, even less to be confronted about it. He chuckled slightly.

“Please don’t tell anyone! If… If.” She felt tears burning in her eyes but her vision was still clear.

“If what, Sansa?” He asked and gave her a look that made her feel obligated to continue, even though her chest constricted in disagreement.

“If the Lannisters find out I told anyone, they’ll hurt me…” Her breathing was short and uneven; the fear of them so great even the thought of them finding out terrified her.

“Have they hurt you before, sweetling?” he asked and stepped closer. She dropped her head and looked at the floor; feeling a tear fall from her eye, coating her lashes.

“Please don’t make me say anything more.” She whispered and felt a soft hand on her chin, bringing her teary eyes up to face him. His eyes were narrowed but she couldn’t read his expression. His thumb pressed lightly on her cheek and wiped a stray tear away.

That calmed her, made her feel warm, like he was transferring some of his own heat and composure. He took his hand away and she immediately felt the loss of it; like a pillar that held her up was gone. Still, he still kept her calm with his green gaze alone.

“I won’t make you say anything more.” He assured with his husky voice and it sent a shiver down her back; a shiver that warmed her body even more. She breathed more steadily and wiped the rest of the tears away, not wanting to look so weak and fragile anymore.

“Why does it matter anyway? The dementor still would’ve found me.” She said and tried to push the memory of the creature out of her head. He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I was intrigued. I meant what I said; that you are cleverer than you think. You know when information is best kept hidden.  That’s quite a useful trait.” He smirked at her and she felt strangely good about that.

Her father certainly wouldn’t like seeing her like this; he was a man of honor but Baelish didn’t seem to mind her lies. He seemed to recognize the potential in them.

“So, should I keep your little game a secret? The mask you put on to scare the students?” she asked with a smirk, forgetting about the drying tears.

“I would be thankful if you did.” He smirked back and she pretended to think about it.

“Okay. I’ll keep it secret. But only if I can be in on it. They already think you hate me and to tell you the truth, I think it could be quite amusing.” She could have never imagined herself to say such a thing before. But now, it was exiting, it was new, it was exhilarating and she wanted it all.

“I believe we have an agreement.” He smiled at her, really smiled.

“Good. But do I still have to do that assignment?” she tried to coax him into letting her skip it but he shook his head with a chuckle.

“You’re not getting any special treatment.” He teased her and she laughed. It had been a long time since she had laughed.

“Fine then. Bye professor Baelish.” She smiled at him and walked out of the classroom, her books held tightly in her arms.

-

The storm raged all around her and it was almost impossible to control the broom, and even more impossible to see the snitch. The small golden orb was easily lost in the furious rain and fog. A lightning struck one of the Ravenclaw players and her broom caught fire as Sansa flew past.

Thankfully, the snitch was a teasing thing and right when you lost it, it appeared again only to spite you. With other words, it just took a long time to actually catch it and not find it.

It appeared right before her and she took up the chase. Up and up it went, faster and faster, the rain swirled all around her and she felt her cloak being beaten by the wind. The Ravenclaw chaser flew out fromthe thick fog and in from the side to tackled Sansa.

She swirled off in a spin but managed to get control and chase after again. She never understood why the other seekers always were so rough. Wasn’t the point in being a seeker to be swift and avoid hits, like the snitch?

They probably just liked to tackle Sansa; they knew that she couldn’t take the hits very well. Still, her teammates insisted that Sansa was the best seeker and she took the place happily. It made her feel important; like she was a part of something greater.

Another lightning struck and hit the Ravenclaw seeker this time. He fell off his broom and plummeted down. They weren’t so high up but if he would hit the ground, surely he would die. Sansa relaxed when she saw him slow down in the air, someone must've put some spell on him to stop the fall.

She chased after the snitch again as it appeared before her, higher and higher. She could almost feel the air getting thinner and colder. She couldn’t see the ground anymore, it was all cloudy and rain fell everywhere. Up and up, faster than before.

She saw the gold orb punch through a cloud and so did she but only found herself without a target on the other side. The rain still smattered on her protective glasses and she was soaking wet. The wind pulled her cloak and another lightning struck further away.

She could almost see the outline of a wolf amongst the lightning and clouds but she had no time to really take a look. An exceptionally strong wind hit her side and she spun off into another thundering cloud. The snitch was in front of her again, teasing, so she chased after.

She felt the air grow colder and she shivered. Her bones seemed stiff in the temperature and the water on her broom froze. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t supposed to happen. _It shouldn’t be this cold._

She felt it like a shadow grazing her side, making her stiff in terror. _Oh gods, no, it can’t be…_ Another shadow passed right in front of her and she felt the familiar pull for only a second. Dread filled her to the core and she stopped as she punched through another cloud.

It wasn’t just one dementor; there were surely a dozen. _No, no, this isn’t happening. You’re dreaming, hallucinating._ She tried to convince herself but it didn’t work. She couldn’t move, her body was frozen in fright.

A dementor came up in front of her and it all went black. It felt like her soul was being ripped to shreds inside her only to be drawn out, piece by piece. She wasn’t stiff anymore and instead went limb. She fell.

 

Petyr's wand:

*I do not own this picture, all rights to the respective owner

 

Scene inspiration:

*I do not own this video, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Any wishes? Concerns? Let me know!


	4. the Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *A piece was accidentally left out at first posting, fixed now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for y'all!  
> I haven't been able to write for a while because of work and next week I'm traveling abroad and might not be able to update then either. I'll try my best, for you <3
> 
> Also, if you haven't read my other Sansa/Petyr fic; The Eagle and the Mockingbird, go check it out! I'd love to have some new opinions on it so I can improve my work, thanks!

Darkness, so much darkness. Wind and rain hit her head with such force that she heard only a buzz.

**_Falling_ **

She plummeted down in a speed she didn’t know possible. Her broom wasn’t in her hands anymore; it was lost to the storm.

**_Falling_ **

She couldn’t see, it was all dark, inside as well. Was it always like this? Had she always felt so broken? _No, it’s the dementor, dementor… dementor._

**_Falling?_**

Was she falling now? It didn't feel like it but the cold had made her numb. She succumbed to the dark that wanted her consciousness.

-

Light seeped into her eyes, faint like morning sun in the winter. She opened them carefully to not blind herself. Her vision was blurry and her body felt weak. Not weak as in aching, she just didn’t have the power to move fully yet.

She started flexing her fingers and felt how cold they were, _like ice._ The sheets underneath her were dry, as were her clothes. They had been completely soaked before, she remembered, in the storm. A shiver coursed through her at the memory.

She could hear voices now; people in the room. She didn’t even realize that she had been surrounded by silence until then. She kept her eyes closed since her vision was still blurry and listened instead.

“What happened to her?” She recognized that voice; Cornelius Fudge, the head minister of magic. She knew him. He had been the one to sentence Ned, Cat, Robb and Jon to death. He had been bribed by the Lannisters, used as a puppet on their command.

“Do you mean now or earlier?” Dumbledore said in a calm voice.

“Both.” Fudge commanded with a stern and snappy voice. She could feel her heart racing.

“A dementor attacked her on the train. Now, I suppose she simply fell. The storm was raging.” Dumbledore said and she heard the minister huff.

“A dementor? Dementors don’t just wander around.” Fudge said and huffed again, trying to make it sound humorous. Sansa did not find it funny but she lied still and listened.

“I don’t think anyone would believe that the dementor was there by coincidence, minister.” She heard professor Baelish say in his husky voice. It was low and threatening.

“I’m sure I must've misunderstood you, Littlefinger. The dementors are under the control of the Ministry of Magic and it sounded like you were suggesting that the ministry had ordered the attack on the girl.” Fudge said and Sansa unknowingly held her breath for a second. Had Baelish just threatened the ministry? And why did the minister call him Littlefinger?

“That would be disturbing indeed, which is why I’m sure the ministry will be mounting a full-scale inquiry into why the dementor was so far away from Azkaban and why it mounted an attack without authorization.” Baelish countered and she stirred involuntarily.

Silence hung in the air like thick fog, or maybe it was just her lungs that constricted a bit. She opened her eyes carefully and was happy to see that the blurriness was gone. She blinked a few times and looked around at the faces.

Dumbledore, the minister and professor Baelish looked at her, all with different expressions. Dumbledore looked sympathetic, like he felt sorry for her. The minister didn’t seem interested in her well-being at all. And Baelish, he was impossible to interpret. Was he sorry for her too? Or was he trying to warn her with his green gaze?

She used her elbows to prop herself up into a sitting position and then looked at them, asking what they wanted with her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore finally asked.

“Better.” She breathed out but felt her heart hammering in her throat.

“What happened?” He continued and she realized what she had to do. _You know when information is best kept hidden, professor Baelish told you so._

“I’m not sure. I must’ve fallen off my broom when a lightning struck too close.” She said. It was the most plausible scenario and they had no reason to distrust her. Still, she couldn’t help but notice the slight smirk on Baelish’s lips. He knew, she felt it, he knew she was lying but he didn’t say anything.

“What happened on the train?” minister Fudge quipped in and didn’t even give Dumbledore a change to answer. She didn’t want to think of dementors, the memory was too fresh and she could still feel the cold that had pierced through her earlier.

“A dementor attacked me, I’ve already told the story once, please don’t make me say it again…” she felt herself quivering and tears wanted to fall down but she refused them. _Don’t be so weak…_

“She is frightened, Cornelius. We’ll speak in private.” Dumbledore said to the minister and he nodded in defeat and smiled at Sansa. She didn’t like his smile. She knew it was a fake smile.

“Oh, professor, stay with her until madam Pomfrey arrive.” Dumbledore said and Baelish smirked at him.

“As you wish.” He answered and looked after them as they left. When the door closed he stalked closer to her and sat down on a wooden chair beside the bed. She hadn't realized that she wasn’t in the hospital wing.

It was a smaller room with only two windows and dark walls. There wasn’t much furniture; the bed, the chair as well as a night stand was all there was. She stopped looking around the room and instead met Baelish’s eyes.

“That was a lie.” He stated quietly and she couldn’t help but smirk. He made her feel accomplished, like he helped her become more scheming. She shouldn’t like it, but she did.

“Well you told me know when information is best kept hidden and that it was a useful trait. I trusted myself.” She said in the same hushed tone that he had used.

“What information?” he asked and her smirk dropped slowly. Of course, he didn’t know what had really happened during the quidditch game. He just knew she was lying about it.

“I…” she began and looked down on her fiddling hands. They felt cold again.

“It’s alright, sweetling, you can tell me.” He encouraged. There was that word again; _sweetling._ Why did he keep using that? Though she had to admit, she liked it, it made her feel safe.

“Dementors… There were a dozen of them, maybe more… It was so _cold.”_ She said but refused any tears to build up in her eyes. Still, her lower lip quivered as she spoke. She saw him frown slightly and then felt his slender fingers under her chin.

He tilted up her head so that he was only inches away from her. She looked into his thinking eyes and wondered if he could see the fear in hers.

“Why did you keep that away from the minister?” he murmured and she smelled the mint on his breath and felt it warm her lungs, making her slightly calmer.

“Because I know how this works! If I told him he would say I was lying and then… Then the ministry would say that I’m trying to blame it on them… The Lannisters wouldn’t do anything to help me and neither would anyone else.” She explained and swallowed a lump in her throat. She felt her throat ache after the constriction.

“A very useful trait indeed.” He said low, mostly to himself it seemed, and then he released her jaw while moving away. Only seconds later, madam Pomfrey came in and he rose, greeted the nurse, and took his leave.

-

She hadn't spoken during class and he hadn't pressured her. Still, they kept their game going. Because of the lack of conversation, the rest of the students thought Sansa was in big trouble. It amused her to see them like that; confused, worried and even scared (for themselves of course.)

Still, she didn’t enjoy it as she knew she could have. The deep hole inside her only grew. After the attack she felt so hollow and she wondered if the professor’s words were coming true; _If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life._

She hoped that wasn’t the case. Her bad experiences affected her enough before; she needed the good ones to keep her floating in the sea of despair. One of those things was Arya.

Her sister had come to see her after Baelish had left. It warmed her to see that Arya did in fact care. Her sister was worried for her. They had to stick together.

Books shuffled around her and she looked up, startled. The class was over already? She had been caught in that dark spiral again. She began to gather her own books but before she could stand up and join her classmates she heard his sharp voice; not the kind voice she had longed for but she knew they were still playing the game.

“Sansa.” He said simply and she stayed in her seat; watching the others walk out with stiff steps. When the door closed she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself to calm down. She hadn't realized that she had a mask of her own; the mask to hide her cracks, to hide the shattered person behind.

“Sansa?” his voice was softer, full of concern, and she snapped her eyes up at him. He stood beside his desk in a frozen motion. Like he had been walking towards her and stopped mid-step. She stood up with shaking hands, and walked closer to him, searching for comfort in his presence.

With only a few steps taken, she felt his lean arms wrap around her and she practically collapsed onto him. She was shaking and even though the strong limbs of his held her up, he couldn’t hold her together. Not inside. Nothing could replace what she had lost. Nothing could erase her memories.

“Shhh, sweetling…” she heard him whisper close to her ear and she clutched on to him; her hands gripping the cloak on his chest. She wanted to be whole again. She wanted it so badly.

His grip around her grew tighter and she liked to think that it pressed her porcelain shards together to form iron. She could be iron; stronger than before. He could mold her. She wanted him to do so.

“Please, stop shaking.” He whispered and she felt his warm hand stroke her back soothingly. She made an effort at his command and managed to stop her shaking and only then realized that this was inappropriate. He was her teacher.

She felt his grip on her ease and she pried her hands open to release his clothing. He let her go and she noticed the wet spot on his cloak. She had been sobbing, making his black attire damp with her tears.

She pulled away, somewhat reluctantly, and looked at him with her tear stained face. He was taller than her but not by much, a few inches perhaps. His eyes were observing, calculating. Like he was questioning her with his gaze alone.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered and stepped back a bit while looking at the suddenly interesting floor.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” He said and stepped closer to her while she wiped the tears off her face. She felt silly, embarrassed.

“I ruined your cloak…” she said in a meek voice and kept her gaze downcast. She remembered the feel of it; how soft it was. _It must be silk, nothing else could be that soft._

She remembered the feel of his chest too. And his arms wrapped around her. She felt a blush creep up and color her cheeks pink. She shouldn't be thinking about such things.

“I can afford it.” He said low and placed a hand on her shoulder. It rested heavily, steadying her as well as contribute to the blush.

“You are not weak, Sansa.” He said sternly but with kindness in his voice. She looked up and gazed into his green eyes. It was like they were glowing, she was transfixed by his expression.

“The dementors affect you most of all because there are true horrors in your past, horrors your classmates can scarcely imagine. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He looked at her with such meaning that she felt bad for not believing it. She _did_ feel ashamed.

“I’m scared, professor Baelish…” she said meekly and saw him smirk sadly.

“Well, I’d consider you a fool if you weren’t. And please, call me Petyr.” She wasn’t sure if she was going to call him that so she just ignored it, for now.

“I want to know how to fight them… Can’t you teach me? You made that dementor on the train go away.” She said, her voice merely a whisper and filled with uncertainty. The idea had only just now popped into her mind.

“It was only one, that night.” He said and looked deeply at her, an apology in his eyes. She felt her lip quiver slightly.

“But you made it go away...” her voice was small and represented her feelings perfectly. She felt small.

“I’m far from an expert. But, since the dementors seem to have taken a particular interest in you, I suppose I should teach you.” He said low, a smirk on his lips. She smiled at him and carefully embraced him; still needing support. Or perhaps she just wanted to be near him again. There was a fine line

“Thank you.” She breathed out, still holding her arms around his neck. She was just about to pull away, feeling even more embarrassed than before, when she felt his arms closed protectively around her waist.

She felt like she would melt into him; allow him to weld them together. The close comfort was overwhelming and much different from the embrace moments earlier. She almost forgot about her worries for a second. Then a voice in her head interrupted; _You know this is inappropriate!_

The voice was right. She shouldn’t be doing this. _He_ shouldn’t be doing this. Most of all, she shouldn’t be enjoying it.

“And thank _you_.” He whispered huskily in her ear in just that way she knew they shouldn’t be doing. She was confused and pulled away from him, releasing completely and he did the same. She had a slight frown on her face.

Why would he thank her? For ruining his obviously silk cloak?

“For what?” she asked, the confusion clear in her voice and she saw him chuckle with a wide smirk on his face.

“For that.” He said simply, still wearing that sly grin, and she knew what he meant; _the hug, the embrace, the touch_. She felt blood rush up to her cheeks. What should she say? How could she counter that?

“Umm, you’re welcome.” She piped out, clearly embarrassed, and picked up her books from her desk. _So stupid. Why did I say that?_ She cursed herself for the stupidity and walked toward the door in somewhat hurried steps.

“Sansa?” he said, the more professional voice coming from his lips, and she turned to look at him. He was bent over his desk, sorting his papers and books.

“We’ll pick up the training next week.” He said without looking at her. She couldn’t decide if she was thankful for that or not. She appreciated that he acted like her stupid answer had never happened, but she also disliked that he acted like the rest had never happened.

“Okay.” She said, mostly to herself, and left the room in a less rushed pace.

-

 

*I do not own this video, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> Part of the dialogue is almost directly taken from the movie "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban". (Aka. the clip above)
> 
> I'm trying to make it a bit of a slow burn BUT I CAN'T I JUST NEED THEM TOGETHER AGHH the struggle...
> 
> Anyways, what did you all think of the season finale of GoT? Personally, I loved it! It closed up a large sum of story lines and builds up the board for a new game ;) Although, I would have enjoyed some more Sansa/Petyr action but hopefully we'll get it next season :)


	5. the Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mishap with Chapter 4. A large chunk of the beginning was missing and I apologize for any inconveniece. This had been fixed now and I'll make sure to proof read better in the future:)
> 
> Anyways, new chapter now!

She had only just gotten out from the classroom when she almost walked straight into the dark clad figure in her way. Startled, she stepped back to avoid a collision and looked up only to be met with the black eyes of professor Snape.

His face was as grim as ever and he looked at her suspiciously. His gaze made her want to tremble with nervousness but she kept her composure the best she could. The only thing revealing her anxious state was her knuckles that had turned white from gripping her books close to her chest.

“Professor…” she said, uncertain if he wanted to speak with her or was going somewhere else.

“Stark, I have to inform you of the rescheduling. Quidditch practice will be held in two hours…” he said, still observing her cautiously.

“Oh, alright, professor.” She said and suddenly remembered; she did not know where her broom was. No one had given it to her after the fall.

“Um, do you know where my broomstick is, professor?” she asked carefully and shifted her stance. His face did not change.

“Yes, it was found by the whomping willow. Sadly, it is… beyond repair.” He said in his deep and monotone voice. Sansa avoided his gaze for a second, sadness filling her. She had been given the broom in her second year by her mother. Now it was gone, just like her.

“Okay…” she whispered and looked back at him, surprising herself when tears did not spring to her eyes.

“And what might a young Slytherin, such as yourself, be doing inside on a day like this?” he asked, his voice interrogating. She had a feeling that he did not mean it literally. He wanted to know why she had stayed in the classroom.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to say at first. _The game, remember the game. It is the same as in class._

“Um, professor Baelish wanted to speak about my assignment…” she said carefully, hoping he would fall for the lie. It seemed like it but the suspicious look he gave her was still very present.

“You ought to be careful, people will think you’re…” he paused and looked over her shoulder, a slight frown on his face. She heard the creak of a door further behind her.

“… up to something.” He finished the sentence and looked back at her. His gaze was making her anxious, his words as well, so she looked over her shoulder to see what he had been looking at.

Baelish walked out of the classroom and towards them, looking as composed as ever with no tear stain on his cloak. He met her eyes with an assuring look and she quickly turned back to Snape.

“Professor…” she excused herself and hurried away, not wanting to encounter any more questions.

“Severus!” she heard his husky voice say before she was out of earshot.

-

She skipped quidditch and instead sat in the middle courtyard, underneath a great oak. She imagined it being a weirwood; like the one back in Winterfell. Her father had always loved the weirwoods. “ _They hold great magic. Long ago people believed these ancient trees to be the eyes of the gods. I can’t say for sure if they were wrong.”_ She remembered him say once.

She fiddled with her wand, made of the very kind of tree that her father had so admired. She tried to think of something else her father had said but her mind kept drifting back to the memory of Petyr’s touch. She knew that the comfort she found in his arms was not that of a friend. She felt like that dark pit in her heart was shrinking just the slightest.

She knew it was improper, she shouldn’t be thinking of it and yet she did. It was a feeling impossible to ignore, a craving for him to rebuild her. He encouraged her in a way that no one had done before. He told her that she was clever, that she did good to keep information away from people, that she wasn’t weak.

She felt the urge to go back into the tower, find him, and just _talk;_ just hear his calculated words and feel his presence.  She didn’t actually need him to touch her again, his gaze on her would be enough to make her feel warm again and shut out the cold that seemed to be permanent inside her.

The memory of his voice in her ear sent involuntary shivers down her back. _“And thank you… For that…”_ He shouldn’t have said that to her. He was her teacher for heaven’s sake. He of all people should know it was improper.

But he never seemed to care of such things, of what was right or wrong. It was like he was teasing her, knowing that it made her emotions swarm and collide, knowing that she violated the rules she had been taught. _Be a good girl, be a proper lady and do well._

Now, here she was, far from being a lady. She had lied to the headmaster and the minister of magic. She had lied to professor Snape right before his face. And Petyr told her she did good to do so.

She wondered what Snape knew. His words still haunted the back of her mind; “ _People might think you’re… up to something.”_ What might people think? What would they think she was up to? What did _Snape_ think she was up to?

She only hoped that Petyr had kept playing the game with him, just like she had. _Petyr... so he is Petyr to you now?_

“Sansa!” the voice interrupted her thoughts and her head snapped up to meet Joffrey’s emerald eyes. Those eyes that sent no comfort, no safety, no kindness. They were not the right shade of green.

He had a wicked and cruel grin on his face as he walked toward her with Ramsay and a girl in tow. Sansa recognized the girl from her classes but struggled with her name. _Melissa? Amanda? No, Myranda! Yes, Myranda._

She was Ravenclaw according to her blue tie and sigil on her cloak. She seemed rather nice but since she apparently hung out with Joffrey and Ramsay, she couldn’t be someone you would want as your friend.

“Joffrey…” Sansa said and had tried her best to sound polite. Being rude to him was not a good idea. And if Cersei would find out, things would get worse.

“Why are you sitting here all lonely?” he sneered as she stood up to brush the leaves of her cloak.

“I’m not…” she began but he cut her off.

“Of course, who would like to spend time with a traitor’s daughter?” he said with a laugh while Ramsay and Myranda only smiled.

Sansa hated it when Joffrey called her father a traitor. _“He went behind the Ministry’s back and used dark magic, which makes him a traitor. The same goes for your bitch mother and your stupid brothers.”_ He had said when she asked him once.

“Well?” he asked forcefully when she didn’t answer.

“No one…” she said sheepishly and kept her eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. She knew he could get angry over almost anything so it was best to simply obey and stay in his _good_ graces.

“That’s right. I hear you’ve been getting in trouble lately, is that right?” he asked and she knew he was speaking of professor Baelish and his classes. Myranda must’ve told Joffrey about it.

“Yes.” She said simply and stood frozen, looking at the ground by his feet. The small group had stopped a couple meters away from her.

“I thought you were supposed to behave? We’ll just have to learn you a lesson then.” He grinned widely at her as she looked into his emerald eyes again. She wanted to protest, to convince him that he should leave her alone, but she knew it would only make it worse. She just had to bear it out to avoid future punishments.

She saw him whip out his wand. It was special designed with a carving of a lion’s head on its handle. Cersei had given it to him on its birthday and the wand had committed to him fast. Sansa wished it hadn't.

“Carpe Retractum!” he yelled and flicked it towards her. She instantly felt a forceful yank by her waist and she was thrown towards him only to land in the dirt by his feet. She heard him laugh cruelly and felt how someone poked her with their foot.

“Deprimo.” She heard Ramsay say, before she had the chance to get up, and her body was pressed towards the ground. She could feel the force that pressed her harder and harder downwards and breathing turned into a difficult task. Her ribcage compressed tightly around her, making it impossible to move.

It was like someone had left a boulder on her and left it there to crush her as slowly as possible. She let out a whimper in pain and the pressure ceased suddenly, making her desperate to regain the air her lungs had lost.

“Did you learn a lesson?” she felt Joffrey breathe by her ear and could only nod in response, her body still aching and breathless. She heard her blood pumping in her ears loudly as she struggled not to cry.

He poked her again with his foot and she heard the crunching of his steps in the gravel, further and further away.

“That was boring. We should skip the spells next time...” She heard Myranda’s voice echo in the corridor before disappearing completely.

Sansa sighed and it made her whimper in pain again. She forced herself to sit up, despite the ache in her body, and held back her tears. It appeared no one had seen the incident and she was thankful for it in a way. If they would have stopped it, she would get in trouble later; for letting Joffrey get in trouble.

She took a deep breath; as deep as she could without whimpering again, and pushed herself off the ground. It would do her no good of simply sitting there. She took careful steps back to the oak where she had dropped her wand.

She was thankful for that too. It could have broken in the impact or pressure. But she was already broken and a few more hits wouldn’t do much, only make her cry when she was alone.

She reached down to grab it but stopped when she heard the unfamiliar voice.

“Here, let me.” Someone reached down and picked up her wand. She looked up at the figure and was met with pure blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, as well as a long row of pearly white teeth. He was grinning widely and held the wand out gingerly towards her.

She took it from him with slightly trembling hands. _Did he see? Will he tell anyone?_ Worry resided deep in her and she was sure it showed in her eyes by the way he reacted.

“Sorry if I scared you, that was not my intention. You just looked to be in pain and I wanted to help.” He said with a pearly smile and she smiled back at him carefully, feeling a bit lighter at the knowledge that he hadn’t seen what Joffrey and Ramsay did.

“Can I ask what happened?” he said. _What’s a good lie?_ She instantly thought.

“I tried out a new spell and it backfired. I really should be more careful…” she said sheepishly and giggled slightly to contribute to the lie. It was a silly thing but entirely plausible. He laughed and once again showed off his bright smile.

He was attractive, she couldn’t deny it. His boyish grin was contagious and his blue eyes big were ridiculously capturing. Still, she was cautious and the flutter in her stomach contributed to the worry. _You felt the same for Joffrey once, that’s why you feel this strange. It’s just some silly fear. He isn’t like Joffrey._ She told herself and calmed down slightly.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked and she snapped out from her thoughts.

“I’m Sansa. And you are?” she said, avoiding her last name. He didn’t seem to know who she was and she wanted to keep him relatively oblivious. She didn’t want him to ask about her parents or anything similar. It was nice to be just a normal girl and not one of the two remaining Starks.

“Harrold Hardyng, but you can call me Harry.” He said and ran his hand through his sandy hair. She couldn’t help but smile at his attempts at flirting.

She knew what it looked like. A few years ago, her father had brought her to a ball and she hadn't escaped unnoticed by the boys there. But at the time she had declined every offer for a dance, having eyes only for Joffrey.

“So, Harry, you’re Ravenclaw?” she asked and pointed at the sigil sewn on his cloak. The blue matched his eyes.

“Yeah; intelligent, witty and whatnot. I don’t really see it. And you are Slytherin I suppose.” He smiled at her widely and she returned the gesture.

“Yeah...” she didn’t know what to say and instead of speaking felt the urge to flee, just to avoid saying something stupid.

“I should go...” she said quietly and started to move away with a blush rising to her cheeks for an unknown reason.

“I’ll see you around.” He flashed his pearly whites, and she nodded in response before walking away briskly.

-

The map of Hogwarts I'm going after in this fic:

Joffrey's wand:

Scene inspiration;

*I do not own these pictures nor this video, all rights to the respective owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love some feedback to continue my work<3
> 
> Thanks to Tommyginger who made me realize I needed some more Severus Snape ;)
> 
> So, I'm guessing some of you kind of know where this thing with Harrold Hardyng will go... ;)
> 
> All of the spells used are actual spells that I found on the Harry Potter Wiki page. I just picked out some that seemed good enough for Joffrey and his squad to use lol


	6. the Village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! I really apprechiate it :)  
> Enjoy this new chapter!

She found herself wide awake with only her thoughts as company. The Slytherin common room was dimly lit and rustic in a sense. It had an aura of a mysterious underwater shipwreck but at the same time was very much like a normal dungeon.

The faint greenish light from the lake around was soothing. The atmosphere was grand but also cold and empty. The water swishing against the glass was relaxing but sleep refused to take her as it had her roommates.

Her mind kept replaying what had happened during the day; Petyr’s embrace, Snape’s suspicious gaze, Joffrey’s abuse, _Harry’s smile…_

She liked him; _Harry._ His eyes were the purest shade of blue, like the summer sky, and even the thought of his smile made her want to giggle. Still, the lump in her throat refused to go away; it filled her with anxiousness.

She felt like she knew why; Joffrey had been like that once, all charming and warm. But then he turned cruel, or perhaps he was always cruel. The same with Ramsay. He had visited the Lannisters’ home once and told her that Joffrey would not harm her again; he had harmed her himself instead.

She was afraid that it would happen again. She knew fairytales were not real, she had learned that much, but she still hoped for something _good_ to happen.

She didn’t know Harry but he seemed well raised; poised and put together, like she had been taught to be. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of home he lived in and what it would be like if she could live there with him.

She shifted on the bed to face the large glass window that showed the dark lake; wincing when she hit a particularly sore spot on her hip. She had landed hard after Joffrey’s spell had thrown her in the air.

She was sure she could find some kind of spell or potion to be rid of the aching but decided against it. She didn’t know what it would be and she couldn’t ask for help. The pain was to be a reminder; stay away from Joffrey as much as you can.

She closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her away, and eventually it did.

-

“Sansa, wake up!” She woke up with a jolt, feeling a hand shaking her shoulder roughly, causing it to ache. She looked around, slightly confused, and met Jeyne’s dark brown eyes. Jeyne removed her hand and Sansa felt her shoulder pound.

She was slightly annoyed but Jeyne couldn’t have known Sansa’s body was a complete wreck from the day before.

“What?” Sansa asked and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“We’re leaving for Hogsmeade in an hour.” Jeyne said enthusiastically and Sansa stretched her arms while sitting up in an attempt to be rid of the ache.

“You know I can’t go. I don’t have a signed permission form…” she said and laid back onto the bed in defeat. When she had asked Jamie to sign it, Cersei had taken it away and told her that she didn’t need it. Jamie had always been kinder than his twin but not by much.

“Sure you can! Your sister, umm, what’s her name again? Anyways, she came by and gave you one! She had one as well. They arrived in the mail this morning!” Sansa sat up again, surprised, and looked at Jeyne with wide eyes.

“Really?” Jeyne nodded in response and Sansa felt a smile creep up on her face but it was quickly accompanied by a small frown. However, Jeyne, ignorant as she was, didn’t notice Sansa’s worry and instead strutted out from the sleeping dorm.

It was strange. Cersei had been against to sign both Arya’s and Sansa’s forms and now both were allowed one? She sighed and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. If Arya had faked it, they would both get in trouble.

-

She had enough time to take a quick shower and then dressed in her autumn cloak. It was colder each day but she was sure it would take some time until snow came. _“Winter is coming.”_ Her father used to say. He said it so often it became a sort of family motto.

Their family house, Winterfell, was an old castle-like building far up in the north. It had been owned by the Stark family for generations, until recently when the ownership was handed over to Roose Bolton, Ramsay’s father.

Sansa hated the fact that Ramsay would inherit Winterfell; the home which was rightfully hers. She wanted it back but knew that it would not be possible. She pushed the thoughts away and headed towards the clock tower with the permission form in her hand.

-

She was granted leave after handing the form to Lothar Frey; the caretaker of the castle. He was the son of Walder Frey who had been the caretaker previously. Walder had somehow acquired friends in the ministry and then become quite a powerful man, leaving his position as caretaker and given it to one of his many sons.

She scanned the crowd of students and became quite frustrated when she did not spot Arya. Her sister was quite short and always seemed to disappear. After a few minutes of searching, she heard Arya’s loud laugh further up the crowd and made her way there.

She found her sister walking alongside a taller boy with thick black hair and brown eyes. He seemed more mature than the friends Arya usually hung out with; Lommy and Hot Pie. He even had some scruff on his chin.

Sansa approached them from the side and they both looked at her. The boy bent down and whispered something to Arya which caused her to elbow him in the ribs while he laughed.

“Umm, hello, you are?” Sansa said and walked beside Arya but looked at the boy questioningly. She felt like she needed to protect Arya, not that this boy seemed dangerous. But Sansa had been wrong before, to her sorrow.

“Gendry Waters, you must be Sansa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said and nodded at her with a smile. Arya walked between them, blocking the possibility for a handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you too. Arya may I talk to you for a minute?” she said and turned to her sister and noticed the slight frown on her face.

“Fine, I’ll see ya later Gendry.” Arya said and walked over to the side with Sansa. The way to Hogsmeade wasn’t too long but it still took some time to walk the gravel road.

“What is it?” Arya asked with a slightly annoyed voice and Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It would only make Arya more annoyed.

“Did you fake the permission form?” she said, not caring for any fluffy talk. It was better to head straight to the point.

“I did not!” Arya said, clearly a bit offended but Sansa pressed on.

“Just tell me if you did. We could both get in trouble.” She said and Arya frowned deeply and crossed her arms.

“I didn’t! I don’t know why Cersei signed it but she did. If I faked it, I wouldn’t drag you into it as well…” her sister said and looked to the ground while kicking a rock. Suddenly, Sansa felt bad for accusing her.

“Sorry, I just… It was strange, but I believe you…” she said and saw how Arya’s mood lifted slightly even if she was too stubborn to really show it.

“Whatever.” Arya said and shrugged. Sansa caught eyes with Gendry for a second before he turned away and started talking to Lommy.

“How’d you meet Gendry?” she asked, lighting the mood.

“He moved here recently and goes in my class. He’s Gryffindor as well.” Arya said and shrugged but Sansa didn’t ignore the slight smile on her sister’s lips. Still, she decided not to press it.

“Oh, cool. You’ve been getting into more trouble lately, then?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow and Arya giggled slightly.

“No, not since the time you had to come get me. But I heard _you_ got into trouble.” Arya said accusingly and smiled ridiculously. Clearly, she enjoyed the fact that her _always perfect_ sister did something wrong.

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault I was…” she paused, the word _dementor_ on her tongue, “almost struck by a lightning and did a bad assignment because of it.” Arya seemed to notice the slip up and was quickly on it but did the wrong assumption. Well, in a sense.

“Did he hurt you again?” Arya asked, worry and fury in her eyes. She had always hated Joffrey and when Sansa was hurt, Arya always wanted to go on a rampage.

“Well, he…” she began but Arya cut her off quickly.

“I’m gonna bash his ugly face in…” she muttered and was speeding up her steps. She was quickly approaching Joffrey and his friends as they walked in the very front when Sansa caught her arm.

“Don’t!” she hissed, trying to not make a scene and Arya glared back at her.

“It wasn’t so bad… You know what will happen if you attack him! We’ll both be punished for it. It’s best to just let it be…” she said, her voice breaking slightly in a begging tone and Arya’s expression softened.

Arya threw her arms around Sansa’s neck but carefully enough for it not to hurt. It was something that had been practiced several times.

“I’m sorry…” Arya whispered and let go. Sansa smiled sadly back at her.

“It’s alright. Now go back to Gendry! We’re almost there.” She said and Arya flashed her a smile before running back to her small group of friends while Sansa kept walking alone.

-

Hogsmeade was full of thatched cottages and shops. It was a nice little village but seemed uncomfortable to live in according to Sansa. During the winters it always looked exceptionally cold, despite being further south than Winterfell.

She walked into the Dervish and Banges shop and started to look around. The shop was filled with different magical instruments, including sets of wizarding chess, quidditch balls and self-shuffling cards.

Her eyes caught on a brand new broom, carefully displayed in the window with younger students glaring at it in admiration. It was a Nimbus 2000; the latest kind of broom and supposedly the best. Sansa found herself looking at it from across the room for quite a while before snapping out of her trance.

It was ridiculous to want such a thing. She knew she couldn’t afford it and Cersei would never give it to her, neither would Jamie.  She would simply have to borrow the school’s brooms for now. Perhaps in a few years she could get a job and save up for one.

Not that it would matter then. By that point her education would be finished and she doubted she would ever get into a national quidditch team. Well, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to even.

Looking around a bit more she didn’t find anything of interest. She walked out from the small shop and instantly found a pair of clear blue eyes. He was smiling brightly at her and she couldn’t help but feel strange. Had he been waiting outside for her?

She ignored it and smiled back.

“Sansa, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for tea. Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop is just around the corner.” He said charmingly. She felt unsure. _Is this a date? Is he asking me out?_

“Sure.” She agreed and he smiled brightly and offered his arm. She took it with a smile playing on her lips and they walked over to the tea shop.

-

It was a small place with quite tacky decorations. Lacy napkins and china sugar bowls were set on the small tables and the bell over the door announced new customers. Despite the over-the-top décor, Sansa quite enjoyed the atmosphere.

The shop was almost packed but it reminded her of the birthday feasts that her family had held back at Winterfell. Of course, the people at the feasts didn’t kiss each other quite so much as most couples did here.

The tension was awkward as they sat at their table awaiting the tea. She didn’t really know how to start a conversation with him and he never let that proud grin drop. She had dropped her smile long ago when he had lifted his hand to caress her cheek from across the table.

She had winced slightly from the unexpected touch but he hadn't seemed to care and had placed his rough hand gently over her blushing cheek. She assumed she was still blushing fiercely from the incident but he didn’t seem to care about that either.

Madam Puddifoot appeared beside them and served the freshly brewed tea. She was a kind looking woman with a warm smile and plump face. Like someone’s favorite grandmother. Sansa happily took the lemon tea and started sipping.

She saw Harry take his honey tea and sip as well. They didn’t speak for the entire time but once again, he didn’t seem to care. He seemed content with just looking at her which made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this was it? You were supposed to speak about mundane things and get to know each other better. Still, she didn’t know what to say.

She sipped up the last of her tea and saw how he gulped down the last of his. He had clearly been waiting for her to finish. They both set the small decorated cups down and he smiled at her again.

“Shall we go?” he asked and she just nodded, an insecure smile creeping up to her lips. He stood up and gestured for her to make her way past him, which she did. He opened the door for her as well and she stepped out, embracing the cool air that hit her skin.

She heard the door shut behind her and turned around, more composed, to thank him for a pleasant time. She wanted to be courteous and had actually enjoyed the tea. But before she could speak, his hands had grabbed her by the jaw, slightly too forcefully, and his lips were pressed against hers.

She could feel his honey breath and one of his warm rough hands went up to her hair. He pressed her harder against him and she panicked. What was she supposed to do? Should she pull away?

She felt his tongue pry her lips open and force its way in. She wanted to push him away at that moment but instead stood frozen. Her body refused to move. His too-sweet lips moved and his tongue circled hers one last time before he slowly pulled away.

She now felt the pressure he had used by her jaw and felt the pounding of blood in her ears. She breathed heavily and irregularly, unsure what to say or do. She hadn't planned this, not at all. She hadn't _anticipated_ this.

“We should be heading back.” He said with the proud smile in place again and she placed her arms around herself unconsciously.

“We should…” she managed to whisper and faked a smile as they headed back to the meeting place where all students were gathering to walk back to Hogwarts.

-

Harry smiled at her as a goodbye and walked off to a group of Ravenclaw students and Sansa was left alone for the second time that day. Her hands were trembling slightly after the kiss Harry had given her but she had not reciprocated.

She hadn't enjoyed it. It had been rough and hard, not at all what she wanted it to be like. Her stomach didn’t flutter but instead the lump in her throat grew. She didn’t want him to do that again.

He had forced his tongue into her mouth and she could still taste his sticky honeyed saliva. She could still feel where his hands had pressed against her scalp and jaw. She could still hear his breaths as it hit her skin.

“Sansa!” she jumped at the voice and Arya ran up to her from behind. She took a steadying breath to calm herself but her sister didn’t seem to notice how tense she was.

“What were you doing with him?” Arya glared at her accusingly and Sansa felt uncomfortable. Had Arya seen the kiss? She didn’t want her to. It didn’t matter if she liked the kiss or not, she didn’t want Arya to see it.

“What do you mean?” she asked, surprised over the control she had over her voice. It wasn’t ragged or nervous like she felt it would be.

“I mean; _what were you doing with him?_ ” Arya said and as Sansa took it; she had not seen the kiss.

“We went for tea, why?” She asked, genuinely wondering why Arya asked so profusely.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him…” her sister muttered and Sansa frowned, asking silently to explain.

“I saw him talk to Myranda. You know? The girl Joffrey and Ramsay has been hanging out with.” Arya said and Sansa let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

_It doesn’t have to mean anything. They are in the same house; of course they will talk to each other._  Still, she trusted her sister.

Arya had disliked Joffrey, and he was cruel. Arya had disliked Ramsay, and he was a monster. Could she be right about this too? Sansa hoped not. Why couldn’t things just go her way for once?

“Oh…” was all she answered and Arya understood that she did not want to talk. She was thankful for the understanding her sister had. Arya gave Sansa a light squeeze on her arm and walked to her group of friends. And so Sansa was alone for the third time that day.

-

Slytherin common room (In a dungeon, partially under the lake):

*I do not own any of these pictures, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this?
> 
> I know, I know, no Petyr this time :( I think it physically pained me to write the kiss with Harry... Anyways, she didn't like it so plus for that right?!
> 
> A little sister love and some insight into their relationship. Arya doesn't get hurt by joffrey, or at least not often. Sansa is the "weak" one so she becomes the target. She doesn't dare to fight back/ knows it'll do no good. Arya knows of this and tries to support Sansa the best she can. But they still have fights and get annoyed by each other like when Arya first appeared in this fic.
> 
> The caretaker for the castle in the HP movies and books is Argus Filch. He is played by David Bradley; who also play Walder Frey. SO, I was like, "I can't have them both exist when they look the same!" and there Walder's son came in ;)
> 
> +Gendry! You might get some insight on his and Arya's relationship later on.
> 
> What do you think about the next chapter being Petyr's POV? Let me know!


	7. the Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just wanted to say that my WiFi is broken atm and I'm posting this from my phone. I'll try to post tomorrow but it might not happen. As soon as I can, I'll email the finished chapters to myself so I can post while I'm traveling this week. I really want to avoid writing on my phone because editing is really difficult. Anyways:
> 
>  
> 
> Petyr's POV
> 
> Warning: rated M

****

_**Petyr** _

One thing was sure; he did not like Harry. He was a spoiled brat who was always looking for someone new, someone better. And the thought of having that filthy blonde latching onto Sansa next was disgusting.

Petyr had seen her walk away from the small tea shop but she had not seen him. It was not difficult to figure out what had happened though. Her swollen lips and distant eyes paired with Harry's wide grin was not a sight he enjoyed.

 _Her._ The broken Sansa Stark was a victim once again. It would only be a matter of time before she had her heart broken by the boy. But then, she would come to her friend, her _only_  friend.

Their extra classes had not yet begun but when they did, Petyr would enjoy them immensely. He would teach her, not only how to fight off the dementors that had hurt her so, but also how to play the real game. Not the game they played in class. No, the game that included real power.

She would be incredible, he knew. She had such talent, such _potential_. Oh, and he would corrupt her in the best way. He would build up the broken thing. She would become so much stronger if he succeeded. And he was determined to do so.

He wanted her to become what he knew she could be. He wanted her to allow his corruption. He wanted her to trust him completely; _only_   _him_. And most of all, he wanted  _her._

He wanted to press her sweet pink lips against his. Not harsh like Harry surely had done, but gentle, caressing. Well, to a start. Perhaps his desire for her would make the kiss desperate, rough, hungry. But he would make sure she wanted it nonetheless.

Oh, to have her in his arms and feel her, every inch of her. It was a dangerous imagination but he played it in his mind despite it all.

His lips were on hers, moving gently but in a needy sense, their tongues circling, making him able to taste her sweetness; _sugary lemon._  Her moans were captured by his mouth, addicting, intoxicating.

He moved to suckle her neck; her long pale neck, begging to be kissed. The scent of her auburn hair filled his lungs;  _winter roses._

His hands traveled along her body, pulling her closer, and she clung to him desperately, needing. He felt her soft breasts press against his chest with want. He moved his hand lower, down to her heated core.

His hand found her dripping, pulsating, begging for release. She moaned for more. Moaned for him. _So wanton_.

She was writhing against him, reaching for her goal. Her entire sense of control was gone as she moved her hips to meet his hand that was now covered in her sweetness.

It didn't take long for her to gasp his name while shaking with pleasure. Pleasure _he_  had showed her. Pleasure _he_  had given her.

Oh, how he needed this thought to become reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. I don't want to give away too much of Petyr, this chapter was mostly to give you some insight as well as some action ;)
> 
> And yes, Petyr did go to Hogsmeade as well but Sansa was too lost in thought to even look for him. 
> 
> What did you all think of this chapter?


	8. the Mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wifi is finally fixed! 
> 
> I have two chapters pre-written that I will post when I'm abroad. So you'll have to wait a bit longer between them. I'll be gone for about 12 days and I'll post both of the chapters during that time. Hope you understand <3
> 
> Enjoy!

His lips were on hers and his tongue forced itself into her mouth. His hands were all over her, not in a pleasant way. She was trapped. Not even her own body would allow her to move. His hands were burning her skin like hot metal; making scars on her body.

Was it Joffrey? Ramsay? Harry? All of them it seemed. All of them were around her, touching, burning. She wanted to scream but her throat was closing up and no sound escaped.

The hands were suddenly cold, turning her skin blue with frostbite. The pain inside her was unbearable and her lungs gasped for air. _So cold…_ Dark clad figures danced around her, pulling at her.

She knew this cold all too well. The pain was still present deep inside, ripping her to shreds. Flashes of green blinded her; _One, two three, four._ Four flashes; each paired with the curse.

-

She woke up with a fine sheen of sweat all over her body. Breathing was difficult but far easier than in the dream. Tears were streaming down her face but she did not care to wipe them away. There was no point in doing so. No one saw her.

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and silently walked out from the sleeping dorm.  She sat down in the couch by the fireplace and threw a blanket over herself, unsure whether she was cold or warm. She couldn’t feel.

The memory was vivid. It had been deathly silent that night.  No begging for mercy, no sobs of fright; only silence. Her own tears had fallen down her cheeks quietly, as had Arya’s. Bran and Rickon had been left at home; spared the sight.

Their faces had been somber and their heads tilted forward in defeat. There was nothing to be done by that point. She had begged before and nothing was done. She had to accept it for what it was; _cruel._

_One;_ Her father slumped down from the green light. _Two;_ Her mother fell to the ground. _Three;_ Robb’s legs faltered underneath him.  _Four;_ Jon’s body went limp.

The killing curse was deemed illegal long ago; to use it on a human meant a lifetime in Azkaban. But the ministry made an exception; so her family could be executed. _“It’s a quick and painless death.”_ That was their argument.

Yes, it had been quick and from what Sansa saw, they did not suffer. But she did. And Arya, and Bran and Rickon. It wasn’t painless, not for the ones who still had a life to live.

She and Arya had been brought to their new home afterwards, still in silence. No condolences, no grieving. Just silence from the death that still resided deep in her lungs like thick smoke. Breathing seemed pointless.

She remembered looking in the rear view mirror from the backseat and seeing Cersei’s face. The lioness had a look of conceit with a hint of a smile tugging at her wine-stained lips. That’s when Sansa knew Cersei had wanted this all along.

A week later she had overheard Cersei talking to Roose Bolton; her father’s old friend, about the execution. _“It’s done. You will inherit most of their belongings.”_ Cersei had told him. That’s when Sansa knew he had wanted this too.

She had heard Tywin speak of what his position in the ministry was and how her father’s death had allowed him to gain more power. _“We own more than 25%. That’s good enough.”_

That’s when Sansa knew that they had all been in on it; the Lannisters, the Boltons the Freys. They all owned different parts in the ministry and had all conspired to take out her family; _the Starks._ Or more specifically; her father.

She had never told anyone about this knowledge. Not even Arya. It was best kept hidden from the world; in the shadows.

-

Most of the students were assembled in the great hall for breakfast, including Sansa. She sat by the Slytherin table and had a casual conversation with Jeyne. Well, Jeyne had a conversation; Sansa didn’t listen and only responded with occasional hums.

She probably should listen, after all, she didn’t have many friends and it would do her good to re-establish the friendship with Jeyne. That way she would be slightly less lonely. But she didn’t feel like it.

The dream still haunted her thoughts and she just couldn’t focus on Jeyne’s constant babbling about some boy she had met in Hogsmeade. She nibbled on her bread and poured herself another cup of juice.

The bread didn’t taste very good to Sansa. Sure, it was sweet, but the sticky taste of honey made her feel sick. Had she always disliked honey or was it after Harry’s kiss? She couldn’t be sure. The orange juice was good however. The freshness made her head feel a bit clearer and she didn’t feel quite so sleep deprived as before.

“Mail’s here!” she heard a kid shout from across the hall and looked up. Dozens of owls, all different colors and sizes, flew in through the large open windows by the ceiling. Graciously they swooped down to drop the letters and gifts. Their large elegant wings did not release a single feather.

Small boxes were caught by greedy hands at the tables and Sansa looked down to her food again to take another sip of juice. She never got any mail anyways. Cersei would never send anything, perhaps a letter if something was important enough. But nothing was ever important enough for Sansa to know.

The students talked with each other and it created a buzz of voices in the hall. She heard the unmistakable shriek of joy from Myrcella who was sitting by the Hufflepuff table with Tommen. Sansa wished Joffrey was a Hufflepuff. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be so cruel.

Some voices quieted suddenly and she looked up to the windows, intrigued over what was the matter.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the dark gray owl carrying a package five times its own size. It didn’t look too heavy for the creature as it flew closer and closer to Sansa’s table. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen. Did she want the package to be dropped by her or not? It seemed unlikely it would.

And she didn’t want to draw attention to herself now that the entire hall was silent. They all stared at the owl that flew without effort.

It clearly didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to think. The package was dropped in front of her anyways and she caught it with both hands and gingerly placed it down on the table. _This can’t be mine…_

She noticed the shape of it; the unmistakable shape of a broom but she didn’t dare think the thought. She reached out to read the label and saw her name on it. _“Sansa”_ it said in elegantly curved letters and all she could do was to run her fingertips along the ink to ensure it was real.

“Bloody hell, Sansa!” She broke out of her trance when she heard Arya yell. The distinct sound of running footsteps echoed in the hall. It took only a few seconds for her sister to reach the table and she felt Arya’s elbow nudge her side.

“Open it!” she said impatiently and Sansa reached out to remove the strings. Soon Arya joined and ripped the remaining wrapping paper to shreds. Sansa almost didn’t dare to take her eyes off the broom revealed.

Its sleek black handle was made of the finest wood she had ever laid eyes upon. The silver details on the tail glimmered in the pale morning light and Sansa only looked at it in utter shock. _But who? Who could afford this? Why give it to me?_

“No way! It’s a Nimbus 2001!” Arya exclaimed and ran her fingers over the silver text on the handle. _What? No, they aren’t even on the market yet…_

Despite her thoughts, there it was, right in front of her.

As if compelled, she looked towards the head table and instantly was drawn to his eyes. The green-gray pierced right through her core and she saw his lips twitch in a slight smirk. _Petyr… Professor Baelish did this? No, he can’t…_ He raised his goblet to her and took a sip without breaking eye contact.

At the moment, nothing seemed to make sense and she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Her giggling fit filled the hall and she returned her gaze to the broom. Arya started laughing as well and they both seemed utterly mad compared to the others. The hall was filled with their laughter alone.

“Come on!” Arya said in between her laughing fits and started to drag Sansa up from her seat. She obeyed, laughing hysterically and took the broom with her. Giggling until her stomach hurt, she ran out, led by her younger sister.

-

Their fit was over and they both sat on the grass in the quidditch field. The air was cool and occasional leaves flew by; fiery red from autumn. It smelled of rain and looming clouds approached, blocking out part of the sun.

The broom lay beside her on the soft grass. She glanced at it every once in a while to ensure that it was not an illusion. She loved it, and yet she felt guilty, wrong in some way.

_It must’ve cost a fortune. He shouldn’t have given it to me. He shouldn’t give me anything._ She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Why had he given it to her in the first place? To be kind? He did not seem like a man who would give away things without getting something back. Did he want something back?

She did not know him exactly. And he was supposed to be her teacher; her teacher _only._ Teachers don’t usually buy their students gifts, and _never_ such expensive ones.

He was kind to her, sure, but that did not mean he had to buy her a new broom. She was content with the kindness he had shown before. When she needed it, he had been there for comfort. She missed that comfort but did not want to go seek it out. Seek _him_ out.

She felt like it wasn’t right of her to do so. None of this was right, was it?

“Who is it from?” Arya interrupted her thoughts with a mere whisper. Sansa closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards to catch the last rays of sun that peered through the clouds.

“I don’t know.” She said. It was true in a way. She couldn’t be entirely sure that it was him, even if his look had indicated so. Besides, she assumed they still played the game. Did Petyr want to keep playing?

“How can you not know?” Arya asked with a scoff and Sansa shrugged.

“I just don’t know. It could be anyone, but I’m sure it’s not any of the Lannisters.”

“It’s a mystery…” Arya said with a sigh of what Sansa assumed was disappointment. She felt a cold drop of water hit her forehead and opened her eyes. As she had predicted, it started raining. So far, only small drops trickled from the sky.

“Come on. Let’s head in before it starts pouring down.”

-

Nimbus 2001:

 

Scene inspiration:

*I do not own this picture nor these videos, all rights to the respective owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Some of you might think it went too fast forward and I can kind of see that, but I needed this to move the plot forward+ I feel like Petyr would like using his money on her ;)
> 
> Tell me your thoughts!


	9. the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai!! New chapter now, please enjoy!
> 
> Next will probably be on monday.

The sisters had parted ways by the suspension bridge. As Arya walked towards the Gryffindor common room, Sansa left her broom in the sleeping dorm of the Slytherin dungeon. Then, she started strolling around aimlessly. She didn’t feel like staying in the common room the rest of the day.

It was still raining outside but there were still not many students in the halls. Sansa assumed most of them were with the rest of their houses.

She was contemplating on whether she should go look for professor Baelish or not. She did want to see him, to ask him about the broom. Still, she felt like she shouldn’t. Perhaps they could speak after class the next day?

After all, he had promised to teach her how to fight off the dementors. Would that have to remain a secret? _It must, no one can know of the attacks._

She felt confident that he would keep the secret. He hadn't told anyone yet, at least.

Hearing the rain smatter on the wooden roof, she settled down on a bench half-way across the viaduct and felt the storm swirl around her. It wasn’t particularly cold which made her feel relaxed instead of frightened.

The cold was now heavily associated with bad memories and shadows that tore her apart from the inside.

It was typical autumn weather; gusts of wind pulling her cloak, rain making the air humid and her hair damp, leaves looking aflame while circling her body. The scent of the season was rich and heavy, making it feel strange to breathe it in.

She heard the funny sound of footsteps on water; squishing strangely each time a foot hit the ground. Whoever it was, the person was approaching her with even steps.

She closed her eyes, hoping to be left alone. She wanted to gather her thoughts and not have to bother speaking with anyone just yet. It was strange how she sometimes begged to be alone and other times couldn’t stand it.

She heard the footsteps slow down as they got closer and she released a sigh before opening her eyes. Her lashes were now soaked though from the rain blowing around her and she had to blink a few times to see who it was.

His smile was almost blinding her and his blue eyes shot into hers. He had his hands in his pockets and nodded his head towards her, still smiling.

“May I?” he asked charmingly and she reluctantly nodded. She was uncomfortable in his presence after the kiss. She just wanted to move on and forget about it but he had obviously not thought the same.

She shuffled to the side a bit to give him some space and he sat down beside her, taking his hands out of his pockets. She didn’t look at him; instead she kept her gaze on her feet, moving them in the pool of water that started to form.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize.” He said and her head snapped to look at him. She hadn't expected those words to pour out of his mouth. Still, she wasn’t quite sure if she should forgive him.

“I… I might have gone a bit too far after the tea. I just recently realized that you might have felt uncomfortable and that was not my intention.” He said and smiled sheepishly at her. His words made her feel guilty.

She had planned to just ignore him without letting him have a chance of redemption. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance? She wasn’t sure and her sister’s words still echoed in her head; _“I saw him talk to Myranda.”_

But could she blame him for such a thing? They were in the same house, it would be inevitable.

“I just couldn’t help myself to kiss you. You are just so beautiful.” He said, a flirtatious smile replacing the sheepish one as he lifted his hand to catch a strand of her hair between his calloused fingers.

She still felt uncomfortable with him. It was something unnerving that she could not pin point but his words of flattery were nice. She had been called beautiful before but not like this.

She didn’t do anything herself, her emotions too conflicting. She just let him touch her auburn waves in silence.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked and played with her hair a bit more. _Should I?_

“Um… I just…” she began, feeling a long explanation on her tongue but he stopped her.

“I mean, if you forgive me, I’ll forgive you.” He said and removed his hand, his smile no longer present.

What did he mean? What would he forgive her for? Had she done something wrong?

“I don’t…” she began, shaking her head slightly in confusion, but he cut her off again.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t receive gifts from others if you’re with me, hmm? Who gave it to you? The broom?” he asked sternly but still a hint of that capturing charm left.

 _He is jealous?_ She was starting to feel herself tremble from his sudden change of personality.

“I don’t know who gave it to me…” she said weakly, unsure of how he would react.

“Don’t lie to me.” He said, tilting his head while gripping her wrist a bit too tightly for comfort. She tried to pull free but he only gripped harder. Tears sprung to her eyes but did not fall. She didn’t know what to do.

“I’m not… I assumed you sent it to me… I swear I don’t know…” she said desperately and he loosened his grip, stroking his thumb over her hand gently. She felt her heart beat fast in her chest and her breathing become ragged; panic still very present.

 “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He said, smiling at her again. _That didn’t happen. I must've imagined it. So many people around me can’t be so cruel._

She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want something like this to happen again. What happens with Joffrey was enough.

His blue eyes were closer than before as he leaned in. Time seemed to slow down as her heart beat faster. This wasn’t the nervous flutter of love, no, this was fear. His hand was on her thigh, gripping her tightly, sure to cause bruises. He was mere inches away and she knew he would kiss her again but she did not dare move away.

“Miss Stark.” Petyr’s voice pierced through her like a blade. It was stern and unforgiving. She jerked at the sudden voice and Harry leaned away from her, removing his hand.

She forgot for a moment that Petyr was acting his part of their game and felt frightened of him for split second before it was replaced with a feeling of safety. But the fear of Harry was still there, deep in her chest.

Harry stood up calmly and she rose with him unconsciously as Petyr approached. She would feel better if she could sit down for another moment but her body didn’t listen.

“Professor.” Harry greeted with the ever- charming smile, even if Petyr hadn't spoken to him. She was too shocked to speak anyhow.

“Mr. Hardyng.” Petyr greeted un-kindly and turned to Sansa who stood beside Harry. “Miss Stark. I have not yet received the extra assignment I asked for.” He said sternly with a slight nod of his head.

She took in a breath, acting along.

“Oh, yes… Forgive me professor, I must've forgotten.” She said and tilted her head down a bit but still looked at him through her wet eyelashes. Was it tears or rain that had soaked them?

“Fetch it. Bring it to the classroom.” He said and looked at her intensely. He did not leave like professor Snape usually did when he had commanded something. Instead he stood firm, waiting for her to move.

She felt relieved that she would not be left alone with Harry again.

“Yes, professor.” She breathed out and turned to Harry. “I have to go.” She said, avoiding his blue eyes but made it clear she was speaking to him.

She did not offer a ‘ _see you later’_ or ‘ _we’ll talk soon’._ She simply walked back the way she had come with hurried steps through the water puddles.

-

She had walked back to the common room and grabbed a few meaningless papers as a fake assignment. She actually didn’t know if he would meet her in the classroom but it was worth a try. She didn’t want to be alone again.

She hadn't changed out of her damp attire. Her head had been far too fuzzy to think about that. The cloak was starting to cool her down and she shivered. But she was almost there and didn’t feel like going back. She didn’t want to risk running into Harry.

She hurried up the stairs of the tower and knocked on the great oak door as soon as she spotted it. It took barely a second before he opened it and gestured her to step in.

She did so without question, but with slightly shaking legs, and he closed the door behind her. Rubbing her aching wrist, she turned around to look at him.

His brows were lightly furrowed as his eyes traveled over her body, still clad in her damp cloak. His gaze stopped by her hands, only her ragged breathing being heard. He took the aching wrist gently in his soft hands and studied it closer.

“It’s going to bruise.” He stated quietly, a mere whisper, and she sighed carefully. His touch heated her skin and it traveled along her body. _Safety._

“I’m used to it…” she whispered and his gaze flickered up to her eyes with something that resembled worry but she couldn’t be sure.

“I need you to stay away from him, alright?” he said, more sternly that she thought was needed.  She felt like she was being scolded.

“I will.” She said meekly, feeling smaller under his watchful eyes. He moved to touch her robe and nodded, mostly to himself she believed.

“Take the cloak off, you’ll be warmer.” He said and walked past her and over to his desk. She obeyed and untied her robe. She placed it on an empty desk and took off her damp jumper as well, now dressed in a simple white button up, her black skirt and black tights.

She turned around and saw that he was looking at her with an unreadable expression. He seemed lost in thought but quickly snapped out of it and gestured for her to come closer.

She brought her discarded clothes with her and walked towards him. He smirked lightly and waved his wand towards the wall in a swift motion. The bricks moved aside from the silent spell and revealed a dark corridor that seemed endless to Sansa.

“What is that?” she asked, a hint of fear left in her voice, and she looked at him with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what he meant for her to do. She didn’t want to go in there alone.

“It’s a tunnel, sweetling. Come with me.” He said low and smirked while placing his warm hand on the small of her back. The sensation she felt was unknown but she knew that it wasn’t a particularly bad feeling.

It sent a spark along her spine and heat spread inside her once again, only now, it pooled in her abdomen.

She didn’t question him again and just let herself be led into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohh, did y'all catch that metaphor? He is leading her into the darkness...
> 
> Lysa's crazy personality changes kind of inspired Harry's character in this fic. At first, I had planned for him to charm her but I just hate him too much to let that happen XD
> 
> And Petyr is acting a bit of a knight in shining armor here ;) I just can't help but love a protective lord Baelish <3


	10. the Room

The tunnel was shorter than she had expected but there were many twists and turns. Once, he steered her into what she thought was just a part of the wall but they had passed straight through without effort.

It was still dark however. She had asked him why he didn’t use lumos to light up the way. “ _Such spells hold no power here. You must know where you are headed.”_ he had answered and ushered her forward.

Now they were in a large room with a roaring fireplace by the wall ahead; lighting up the open space. Large columns were rowed up but they did not touch the ground. Instead, they looked like they were cut off mid-way and hung from the ceiling.

A simple, yet large, chandelier hung in the middle of the room and blue light shone in from the windows, but you could not look out of them. Sansa assumed you could not look in either.

He still kept his hand on the small of her back and led her to the center of the room. He took the damp clothes from her arms and hung them gingerly in front of the fireplace to dry.

“The room of requirement.” He said before she could ask where they were. She had heard of it before but never could have guessed it actually existed.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked and looked around, astonished. It was said that the room adapted after the seeker’s needs. Such a magical place was exhilarating to be in. How could she even know it was real?

“Well, I did promise to teach you, didn’t I?” he said in his husky tone and she turned to look at him. He was smirking devilishly and had his hands clasped in front of him. His mockingbird pin glimmered in the light as he walked closer to her, now standing only an arm’s length away.

“Shall we begin?” he asked and she answered quickly.

“No.” he quirked an eyebrow at her, looking amused.

“No?”

“No. First, I have some questions.” She said, demanding him to listen to them. She didn’t feel small now, she felt empowered, brave, capable. She was determined to have answers. He had some explaining to do.

He chuckled low and she could almost feel the air vibrate around her. Surround her.

“Very well, ask me.” He challenged and she straightened her back, thinking of how to best phrase it.

“Did you give me the new broom?” she asked, straightforward, and he smirked while narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Yes. I hope it suffices to your needs. I heard you old one was demolished by the whomping willow.” He said it as if it was the most normal thing. She huffed in slight frustration. Did he not see why he shouldn’t have done that? Did he even care?

“You shouldn’t buy things for me. And it must've cost a fortune, I can’t repay you…” she began but he cut her off.

“It was a gift, you are not supposed to repay me, and it did not cost a fortune.” He said sternly but still had a soft tone. She stumbled slightly on her next words.

“Nevertheless, you are my teacher. It will look like favoritism if someone finds out you gave it to me. It’s not right.” She said, looking at him intensely.

“It’s not right to keep information away from the Minister of Magic either, and yet you did so.” He said and she shrank a little bit. It was true. His accusing words affected her instantly.

“No one will find out. Keep it, use it, and don’t worry, sweetling.” He said and she realized she had been defeated. She wanted a rematch.

“Well, I have other questions.” She said defiantly and he chuckled again and gave her a look that seemed to say _"go on then, try me."_

“Why didn’t you tell the minister of the dementors? You could have.” She narrowed her eyes at him, truly not understanding why. Did he simply want to keep her secrets? She felt like she could trust him, or rather felt obliged to tell him whatever was going on.

“I only do what works in my favor. As it so happens, telling Fudge of the attack you suffered during the quidditch game would not work for my interests.” He said, still keeping an aura of mystery to himself. She had a feeling that if she should ask what his interest were, he would not answer.

“Alright…” she looked down in thought, trying to figure out what to ask him next. She liked doing this, strangely; interrogating him, learning about him.

“Why did the minister call you Littlefinger?” she specifically remembered Fudge calling him that but hadn't thought of it much since and now she wanted to know. She needed to know more about him. Perhaps it seemed silly, but she needed more.

“When I was young, I was very little, and I come from a place called the Fingers. It’s an exceedingly clever nickname.” He said, smirking with narrowed eyes that pierced through her and sent a rush down her back.

“Do you like it?” she asked,not thinking about how to make her questions relevant or witty anymore.

“Only by admitting what we are can we get what we want.” He said and she wondered what it was he wanted. She saw no clear intentions. What could a man like him want?

“Now, are you finished with your little interrogation?” he asked and she didn’t feel like she was. Still, she didn’t know what more questions she had and simply nodded, feeling defeated once again.

“Good. Now, are you sure about this? This is very advanced magic, well beyond the ordinary wizarding level.” He said and she started to doubt. She had never been exceptionally good with spells or charms. She hadn't really been bad either, just average.

Still, she needed to do this. She doubted more dementors would appear but it would at least make her feel safe, and, she didn’t want to leave. The calm of the room was such a contrast to the rainstorm she knew raged outside.

She also feared to meet Harry again. 

“I’m sure.” She said after a while and he placed his hands on her arms gently. The touch sent warmth through her again, making all thoughts of Harry disappear.

“Well, everything is ready then.” He said, giving her half a smile and turned away from her. The loss of contact made her shiver but she quickly regained control, but she felt foolish. _What am I doing?_

“Now, the spell I’m going to teach you is called the patronus charm, have you ever heard of it?” he asked while pulling out his wand and making a large trunk levitate to the center of the room right beside him.

“No.” she whispered, almost hypnotized by his secure movements and way of speaking. Mesmerizing.

“The patronus is a kind of positive force and for the wizard, or witch, who can create one; it works like a shield, letting the dementor feed from it rather than you.”

She nodded in response and he looked straight at her with his dark eyes. She didn’t dare break eye contact.

“But, in order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. Not just any memory; a very happy and very powerful memory.” His words were raspy and she found herself inhaling sharply from the way he said powerful. It was so strangely wicked to see his lips form the word.

“Now, close your eyes.” He said and walked closer to her. She wanted to keep her eyes open, to see him, but she obeyed nonetheless. She heard his footsteps coming closer to her and for some reason, she expected him to touch her, like he often did ever so subtly. Did she want him to?

“Concentrate. Explore your past.” He whispered but avoided making any skin contact. She squirmed a bit but tried to obey his words.

“You have a memory?” he asked huskily close to her ear. She didn’t quite have one yet but she wanted him to continue speaking nonetheless. Her response was more of a whimper than a word.

“Allow it to fill you up. Lose yourself in it…” he whispered in her other ear while standing behind her. She felt heat radiate from his body and she wanted to lean in, to feel his calming touch, but did not do so. It was wrong. Gods, she shouldn’t even be thinking of it.

“Repeat; Expecto Patronum.” He was right by the side of her face and she could smell the mint of his breath and the deep musk from his body. It was intoxicating and she felt lost.

All thoughts of this being improper left her and she could only feel, only see, only hear, and only breathe him. How addicting it was.

“Expecto Patronum.” She said as if in a trance. Enchanted by him.

“Very good.” She felt the closeness of him leave and she opened her eyes with a slight jerk of her body and saw him standing by the trunk. Shaken, she took a deep breath, silently asking him what to do next.

“Get the wand ready.” He commanded with a supporting nod. She suddenly realized what must be in the trunk, and felt panic rise in her. Could she do this? She still didn’t really have a memory to use.

His hand moved closer to the lock and she had to stop it.

“Wait!” she said suddenly, feeling her lungs constrict. Fear resided so deeply inside her and the mere knowledge of having a dementor so close made her heart race.

“I can’t do this. Not now, please…” she begged, her breathing desperate and ragged. _He must think me a fool for being so weak._

He left the trunk carefully and stalked closer to her. She half-expected him to tell her she was being stupid, like Joffrey would have done, but instead he lifted his hand and stroked the hair by her ear.

He let his hand rest gently by her jaw and held her steady like that. Her breathing hitched from the closeness of him. His scent filled her lungs once more and his lips turned into a slight smirk, reassuring her that it was alright.

“You fear the fear itself, that is very wise.” He said huskily and she sucked in a breath, tasting the mint from his breath. His face was mere inches from hers and yet she felt the need to be closer. Closer.

“You know your weaknesses. But you must also know your strengths and you must use them wisely. One man can be worth 10.000.” She wasn’t quite sure what he was implying. She frowned a bit and he smirked wider.

“I’ll teach you a great deal of things.” He said mysteriously and pulled away suddenly, making a gasp escape her lips. She missed his touch, the sinful emotion that filled her. A blush crept up to color her cheeks pink and she realized how ridiculously she had acted. Like some wanton.

“We will continue after class tomorrow.” He said and moved the trunk back into a corner with a flick of his wand. She wasn’t sure what to feel at the knowledge of seeing him again so soon, all she knew was that sleep wouldn’t come easily.

“Okay… Do you still want me to play the game?” she asked and heard him chuckle as he moved different things in the room. She didn’t know what all those things were; magical instruments she assumed.

“It’s never just a game if you’re winning.” He said and she frowned again.

“There is a way to win?” she hadn’t been aware of that. For her it was just an experience, an exhilarating experience. She had never been involved in such a thing before.

“Oh yes. There is always a way to win.” His answer didn’t quite satisfy her need.

“How do I win then?” she pressed and he chuckled again. She found that she liked challenging him like this.

“Competitive are we? Well, the first to break the act, loses. Up for the challenge?” he looked at her devilishly from across the room and she nodded, mesmerized by his gaze again.

“Good.” He smirked and waved his wand again, making a small wooden door appear in one of the walls.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow, sweetling. That door will take you to the grand staircase.” He said and nodded towards the door. She smiled lightly at him, still embarrassed by her behavior just a few moments earlier, and walked over to the door after grabbing her dried clothes.

The door was small and nothing special; made of some cheap wood and a rusty handle. She opened it and stepped in, without looking back. She feared that she would find herself in a trance once more is she met his eyes.

Closing the door, she noticed her surroundings. It was an old broom closet, a small room with dust and items not used in years. She reached out for the handle to go back but the door had disappeared.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, she twisted and turned, frantically looking for a way out. She stopped as she noticed an identical door on the other side of the small room. She stepped over an empty bucket and opened, allowing light to seep into the dim closet.

As Petyr had told her, it led to the grand staircase. Relieved, she stepped out, smiling to herself, and made her way to the common room.

-

Inspiration:

The room of requirement:

*I do not own this video or pic, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> For some reason my phone won't allow me to put in the inspiration vid or pic. I'll put them in when I get access to a computer.  
> Next chapter will probably be on thursday or friday :)


	11. the Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter! I wasn't able to write when I was traveling but I'm back now yay. Anyways, it feels like this took ages to write and nothing seemed to work. I wrote several different versions of this but I like this the most.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You, miss, have just gotten ten points removed from your house.” Baelish said, his face cold and stern. Reading him was difficult, even when she knew it was just a game. Should she talk back?

“That’s unfair!” she exclaimed before she had made a decision. The look he gave her made her want to cower back but at the same time she felt completely at ease.

“Very well then. Ten points from your house _and_ detention after each of my classes the next two months.” He said and she heard some students whisper quietly to each other in the back. Whether they thoughts she deserved it or were afraid themselves, she did not know, but she was not afraid.

She furrowed her brows, mostly to finish the act but also of confusion.  How could he have planned this? Had he always known what she would do? How could he create such a chain of events to lead to this goal?

His every move, every word, every breath, was deliberate. She had never seen him loose control over a situation or seen his mask slip unintentionally. He always _knew_ what to do, what to say; as proven by the way he had saved her from another sloppy, honey-tasting, kiss from Harry the day before.

Somehow, it seemed he had known exactly what to do in order to spur her on. Had that been his intention the day before as well? Had he altered his voice and touch so that she would feel that warmth, that need? More importantly, what did he want?

“Nothing to say?” he challenged and she returned her attention to him, not that she had really thought of anything else. She could almost see the fathom of his familiar smirk, daring her.

She wanted to keep the battle going so badly but was lost in his deep eyes. She didn’t have anything to say so she only shook her head, reluctantly. She felt a tinge of that defeat again. She found herself often wishing she could keep going, to have that ease he always had while speaking.

Would he teach her that as well?

“Good.” He said with a slight sigh and turned to the rest of the class.

“The dark arts are many, varied, ever-changing and evolving. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even cleverer and fiercer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. There is a certain madness to this method.”

 She wasn’t quite sure if he was talking to the class or directly to her. There was truly no sign that he was talking to her, only a feeling she had.

“Then why do we keep doing so?” he asked and a few students raised their hands, unsure and perhaps frightened. Petyr had that effect on most of them; he was frightening, and yet they were obliged to answer.

He pointed to a Gryffindor student and he took down his hand, looking hesitant.

“Because it’s important to be brave.” He said and straightened his back a bit, holding his ground. _Brave. Of course a Gryffindor would say that. If he only knew what Joffrey has done to me, he would not be so proud of his house._ But he didn’t know. He would never know.

“Correct.” Petyr said and cast her a glance. She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted said by that look but she took note of it nonetheless.

“I want you all to study jinxes for tomorrow. Class dismissed.” He said, waving his hand slightly in the air while turning to sort out his papers. The door opened and students welled out, but Sansa stayed. She had detention, after all, and for the next two months as well. It was the perfect cover for training.

The door slammed shut and she watched it close. When she turned around again he was leaning against his desk and not opening the hidden door like she had expected. She frowned a bit and looked questioningly at him. He only observed her with a sweep of his gaze.

It was silent as she walked to the front of her own desk and sat down on the edge, waiting for him to do something.

 “We aren’t using the room of requirement?” she asked putting her books in a neat stack but never broke eye contact with him. He narrowed his eyes a bit and nodded towards her.

“You’re not ready.” He said and she frowned again.

“Yes I am.” Was she telling herself that, or him? He gave off a low chuckle and pushed away from his desk. He angled a chair, placed it beside her and sat down.

“No, you’re not.” He crossed his legs and folded his hands on his knee all while looking at her intently. She broke his gaze, defeated once again, but she saw the truth. She truly wasn’t ready to start anything that advanced.

 It wasn’t her skills that were the problem but rather her mind. She was so broken inside that not even the pieces of her agreed with each other. Was it wrong, the way she felt for him? It should be. He was her teacher and far older than her. Then why was she so tempted to touch him? Why did she feel that warmth coursing through her body when he spoke in her ear?

 “The first time I saw you, I recognized you immediately, by your hair, your eyes; it’s your mother’s, Catelyn’s.” he said as if in lost in thought. Those words seemed to come out of nowhere but she listened intently nonetheless. Perhaps the slight confusion showed on her face for he answered her unspoken question.

“Oh yes, I knew her.” He sighed, taking more control over his words, and stood up only to walk slowly in front of her.

“We grew up together, along with your aunt Lysa.” He said and paced the area before her, his hands clasped together behind his back.

“She never spoke of you.” She said and realized that it sounded harsh and mean when she said it like that but he did not seem to mind. He only chuckled deeply but it still did not sound quite happy.

“No, she wouldn’t have. Perhaps you are aware of your mother’s _feelings_ towards Slytherins?” he said and she looked at her hands that were placed in her lap, fidgeting with her fingernails. _He was a Slytherin too._

“There is not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin…” she repeated the words her mother used to say. She had stopped saying that when Sansa had been placed in her house.

Catelyn had always been kind to her, she was her mother after all, but after each summer, something changed. As soon as school started, her mother grew a bit distant, as did her father. They did not ask of her schoolwork or her friends.

Sometimes they would write letters telling her what to do.   _-You should be with Joffrey more, I hear he misses you. -Just focus on doing good, alright?_ - _How’s Margaery doing? She is such a sweet girl. Perhaps you want to become more friends with her?_ They never asked if she had any friends in her own house.

The first year she had received a letter seemed kind at first but had twisted into disappointment; _It’s alright to be a Slytherin, we love you just as much. We are so proud of you. You could, of course, talk to the headmaster and ask if it was a mistake. Perhaps the sorting hat could place you somewhere else?_

Her parents did not do this on purpose, she knew. They were simply afraid. Afraid Sansa would become what they thought was bad.

“Yes, she did say that, even as a child. We were close, your mother and I. At one point, I might have even said I loved her.” He said low, sounding like he wanted no one else to hear.

Sansa looked up at him, surprised to hear him say so, and was slightly relieved to see he wasn’t looking at her. It made her feel strange. If he loved her mother, was it only Catelyn he saw in her? Did he want Sansa to live out some sort of childhood dream with him?

“But when I was sorted into Slytherin, I learned to regret that affection. Perhaps she did not mean for it to go quite that far, she was a kind hearted woman, but ignorant.” She only kept listening to him, watching him pace slowly before her.

She wasn’t angry at him for his words. She should be in a way, he was insulting her mother, but she knew it was true. Somehow, Catelyn believed being a Slytherin would change Sansa, and quite frankly, that was stupid. She was still just Sansa.

“She ignored me for some time, so I sought her out. And your father, brave as he was, protected her from me. She never needed it, truly. She was always safe but Gryffindors have such strange views of the world. He left me bleeding on the ground and now I have a scar as a reminder; from navel to collarbone.”

She did not know how to feel. In some ways, hearing that her father had done such a thing was unthinkable. Eddard valued honor and bravery; he wouldn’t just leave someone to die. But it was also entirely plausible. He had always been fiercely protective of Catelyn and his temper was unstable when he was provoked.

She wished she could change it, go back in time and stop her father. She could imagine the pain Petyr had felt; surely she would have experienced something similar after all the torture from Joffrey and Ramsay.

She did not believe it was a lie. What purpose would a lie like this serve anyways?

“I have to admit, you remind me of her in some aspects. Not in a pleasant way, mind you. I lost all affection I held for your mother as I lay on the ground, dying.” His voice was darker and when he turned to look at her she noted that his eyes were darker too; vicious.

It wasn’t the darkness that she had seen in Joffrey. This was different but she felt a tinge of fear nonetheless. Her breathing was heavy and she was compelled to meet his gaze even though it frightened her. Somehow, she wasn’t looking at the person that had saved her anymore. He wasn’t the person who had held her, soothed her.

“A thought passed me on the train. I could have left you there, with the dementor. I have no care for your mother, why should I care for you?” The fear only grew but it still wasn’t him, not quite. Perhaps he had broken shards inside him too? Perhaps he was as confused as she was at times?

But just as quickly as the darkness had appeared it was gone.

“But you are not your mother. Your hair is a lighter shade, your eyes are colder, your wit far greater.  You have potential.” He said, his voice husky and it sent shivers down her spine.

It was clear now that he did not want to live out some childhood dream with her. He did not dream anymore, not of such things. He had learned the cruel way, just like her. _The stories are not real._

She wondered what he meant with potential. Potential for what? Still, she did not ask, she simply waited for him to explain.

He took a few steps closer to her and she leaned back just the slightest as she sat on the edge of her desk. But she was not afraid anymore. She trusted his every word. _I am not my mother, nor my father._

After a time of simple staring she had to break the silence and have an answer to her unspoken question.

“What kind of potential?” it was a mere whisper, filled with both fascination and insecurity.

“To learn the rules so you can break them properly.” He said low and placed a hand beside her leg on the wooden desk. She leaned backwards even more, supported by her arms as his face came closer to her with an unbreakable stare.

Did he want her to become _bad_ as they so called it?

“Do not wish ill on your enemies. Plan it.” His words were devilish but they tasted like sweets as she caught them with an inhale. It was all wrong, she knew, but how long hadn't she waited to escape the cruelty of the Lannisters? Was he giving her an opportunity to do so?

“I was a boy with nothing. But I have managed to work myself into quite a position in the ministry. They all _believe_ I work for them. They all _believe_ they’ve won. But I’m working against them all and they have no idea. They said I couldn’t. That’s why I did.”

The fact that he just told her he worked for the ministry should frighten her, but it did not. He had told her so much more. In a strange way, he was doing exactly what she had wished to do. He was working against them. And she had the feeling he wanted her to be with him.

But if he was in the ministry, had he worked against her family too?

“Were you a part of it? The plan to execute them?” she whispered, not needing to say whose execution.

“In a way. I can’t say I intended for them to die. It would have benefitted be far more for them to be alive.” He said, no hesitation in his voice and she believed him. Perhaps she shouldn’t but she did. And perhaps she still shouldn’t want to be a part of it, his plans, but she did.

She was trapped between his arms that were on either side of her body. His face was mere inches away and she could smell the familiar mint on him, mixed with the deep musk of his body. She hadn't realized it, but she was leaning back on her elbows, his body between her legs that were spread open.

Her skirt had hitched up a bit and she felt warmth pool in her lower abdomen. The warmth moved downwards in waves, making her feel wetness between her legs as the side of his hip touched the inside of her thigh.

He was so close, she needed only to lift herself up a bit to crash her lips against his. She wanted to, gods she wanted to.

As she felt like he was just about to reach down and meet her lips with his, he smirked widely and pulled away. Her heart was racing and she hurried to pull her skirt down. She knew her underwear was almost showing and she could feel the wetness that had soaked through them.

She pulled her high stockings up a bit higher as well and jumped down from the desk, still feeling her abdomen stir with warmth.  She could feel her cheeks burning and knew they were bright pink from embarrassment.

Her mind had a difficult time grasping what had happened and her body moved on its own accord. She picked up her stack of books and held them tightly pressed against her body.

“I will not attend the class tomorrow, but it will be as usual next week.” He said while fixing some papers on his desk. She murmured a response and walked out, trying her best not to flee too fast in embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this?
> 
> Some parts may be a bit messy but that's because my writing didn't really flow very well. 
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos!  
>  
> 
> Quote: There is not a witch or wizard that went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.- Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling


	12. the Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather short chapter, just to sort out their thoughts a bit+ I wanted to give y'all a little treat. Enjoy<3

**_Petyr_ **

He had told her a lot more than he had originally intended.  She was fragile, he was quite sure of that, and so he had planned to ease her into his schemes, not that she would ever know all of them.

But he had lost himself. Her questioning eyes and the slight parting of her lips made him continue into the words he had planned for later. Still, she hadn’t seemed to have the urge to flee like he had expected from the reveals. Instead, she had listened intently and not even cowered when the darkest parts of him spoke.

He wanted to lead her deeper into the dark where he knew she would revel. He wanted to see her destroy her enemies without them realizing.

They were similar; both had believed in the stories where love always wins and good prevails. Both had realized the stories were lies.

And yet, she was still so very innocent, despite the cruelty she had surely endured. Wouldn’t it be sweet to corrupt her? Catelyn and Eddard Starks daughter; _his._ What revenge wouldn’t that be?

He could have taken her right there, on her desk. She had been so _willing_ for him to do so. She had practically been writhing underneath him and he was enjoying every moment immensely.

 The scent of her arousal still clung in the air, filling him to the point of madness. Her lips had been so close and with a single motion he would have tasted her.

But he did not.

It was dangerous of him to stay so close to her. However much he wanted to deny it; she was becoming his weakness. And in the game he was playing, you couldn’t afford a weakness. The others often had far too many and they were already being swept off the board.

But he would still teach her. She could become a useful piece if he could only keep himself in check.

****

**_Sansa_ **

She still felt heat stirring between her legs from the encounter with him. She didn’t know how to make it go away. She wasn’t sure she wanted it to.

She kept wondering why he hadn't kissed her. He could have, if he only made the move. And she was too afraid to do so herself. She needed him to guide her like he did with so much else.

He had revealed a great deal of things, she wasn’t even sure if he meant to say all of it. Yet, she did not back away. It didn’t scare her away. In fact, some of it pulled her even closer.

He said he was working against the ministry; _all of them._ How one was capable of doing that, she did not know, but she wanted to know. She wanted to be a part of it. So much had been taken from her; she could take it back if he only showed her how.

He was leading her completely, even if he did not know it. He was her only strength, her only chance of getting what she wanted.

Sure, she had Arya, but her sister had always been fierce and wild, independent and brave. Arya may have sympathy, but she could never truly understand what the pain was like. Somehow, she felt like Petyr knew. He had known pain and learned how to defeat it. She wanted that desperately.

By filing off the edges, he made the pieces in her fit.

-

Inspired by this photo:

Inspired by this song (Into You, Ariana Grande):

*I do not own this photo or video/song, all rights to the respective owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like Ariana, I don't need to read about it and you don't have to listen to the song if you don't want to. It was just a big inspiration for this chapter and I think it sums up most of Sansa's feelings. (My username is arianas_sunflower, what did you expect?)
> 
> I would love to know your thoughts and predictions on this :)


	13. the Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for you!

Snape had teached in the class when Petyr was absent and then he had spoken her about the points that were drawn from Slytherin. She was the reason for it, after all. Though she couldn’t say she had really listened to his scolding. She had simply apologized, promised it wouldn’t happen again, and gone on with her day.

In fact, she couldn’t say she had listened in any of her classes that week. She had done her assignments and turned them in. Walked to class and left. Answered questions and asked them. But she had not listened.

Her mind was on other thoughts.

She would find herself awake late at night, unable to find calm. She did not know how he was able to distract her so, even when he was away.

Her body shivered with a strange sense of need when she thought about his body surrounding her. She shifted in her bed often, wanting release of the tension she felt.

Why couldn’t he just kiss her?

She avoided going to Hogsmeade, complaining of a headache as an excuse not to go. In reality, she just didn’t feel like it. Distractions were to no avail. She could not be rid of the burning that ate her alive.

He did not come back until the day of the class; the day she had been anxious to face and yet longing for. As soon as he walked into the classroom, their eyes met and with that gaze her body trembled with anticipation. She wondered if he would make the burn go away or simply make it stronger.

The class was all theory about jinxes; as they had studied the week before. But as all the other classes; she found it impossible to focus on anything specific.

The class was over in a heartbeat, or was it a lifetime? She couldn’t decide and her mind was such a mess that she picked up her books and started making her way out along with the other students. She froze when she heard him clear his throat in warning. _What was I doing? So stupid…_

She turned around and looked at him as he stood by his desk as usual. Why her body had decided to move her away from him and make a complete fool out of herself, she did not know. All she could feel was the heat, both on her cheeks and her abdomen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said sternly and she heard the door close behind her heavily.

“Just playing the game.” She said quietly and made her way back to the front of the classroom. Sitting down on her chair, she realized again how she wasn’t thinking straight.

 _Why did I sit down on the chair?_ She scowled herself. She would much more prefer to have him leaning over her like the week before.

“Where were you?” she asked, trying to avoid blushing even fiercer from her thoughts. She hadn't really thought of where he could have gone, but now, the question made sense. Teachers never left the school unless it was important.

“The ministry.” He answered simply and she frowned ever the slightest. The heat that had been spread through her body, coursing through her every fiber, was shrinking. It didn’t necessarily disappear, it just hid itself deep inside her and she was sure it would emerge again. 

“I shall tell you of that later. For now, I think it would be best if you practice the patronus charm again.” He seemed to have noticed her tense and his expression was more open; more comforting. But still, he did not come closer as he had done so often before. Instead, he stood firm by the desk.

“Why do you think you’re not ready yet?” he asked, nodding in her direction slowly. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she guessed.

“Because I’m afraid.” She said meekly and was feeling a bit frustrated. He kept such distance from her. _Perhaps what happened had all been a mistake?_

“And what are you afraid of, sweetling?” he asked, care in his husky voice. Somehow, that made her get a feeling that what had transpired between them had not been a mistake. So why didn’t he come closer?

“The Lannisters, the Boltons, the Freys, Dementors, Harry…” she trailed off, unsure if she should mention her other fear that was very much real. _The killing curse and the green flames that come with it._

“I want you to remember this; Fear is not real.” He said and looked at her like he was trying to force the words to become etched into her mind.

“Danger, is very real, but fear is a choice. Understand?” He had a tinge of that darkness in his voice again; threatening her in an indescribable way and yet making her stronger. She nodded weakly and he nodded with her.

“Good. Now, choose a memory.” He did not ask her to close her eyes this time. He did not stalk closer to have his breath grace the side of her ear. He did nothing but stand there.

She tried to search in her mind. _Happy and powerful._ Her family was instantly appeared in her mind but it quickly twisted into the memory of how they died; and that was not a happy memory. Powerful, yes, but not happy.

“I don’t think I can.” She whispered and he frowned just a bit, but it was enough her for her to notice.

“Why?” It was a simple question.

“Because every time I think of them, my family, I start thinking about how they died. I can’t bear it.” Her voice was almost breaking when she thought of it, but she did not cry, not yet. She wanted to be stronger than that.

“You’ve been running all your life.” He said, his voice deep and raspy. She looked up at him and met his green-gray eyes that burned her skin. When had she looked away?

“Terrible things happened to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room mourning their fates. You’ve been a bystander to tragedy the second they executed your father. Stop being a bystander. Stop running. There’s no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them.”

It was no offer now. It was a command he gave her. The dark tone to his words lingered in the air and was absorbed by her fascination. She wanted to do this; what he told her to do. She wanted to avenge them.

All she could do was nod with her eyes fixed on him. He smirked devilishly and the heat in her returned stronger than before.

“Good.” It was almost a low growl when he said it and she released a breath that almost turned into a whimper. He smirked wider at her little sound, and then she realized something.

It must be a game. He kept teasing her; making her want something only to refuse her. He looked almost amused by her want.  It was a game and he hadn’t even told her about it. Was it all games with him?

“We will continue tomorrow. I have work to do.” he said and turned away from her. She picked up her books once again and headed for the door, almost as if in a daze but her mind was clear. She turned around and caught his green stare just before the door slammed shut.

She released a breath she didn’t realize had been caught in her throat. She still felt a pull, so strong that it urged her to return to him and beg for a kiss, a touch, _anything ._ But she did not do so. If it was a game, she would play it, and she would win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this chapter? Have any predictions for what's to come? I'd love to hear it<3
> 
> Quote: You’ve been running all your life. Terrible things happen to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room mourning their fates. You’ve been a bystander to tragedy from the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander, do your hear me? Stop running. There's no justice in the world, not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them.- Petyr Baelish, Game of Thrones (Slightly altered in the fic, but this is the inspiration)


	14. the Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!
> 
> If you didn't know; I've started to post o my other fic, The eagle and the mockingbird, again. So if you're interested, go ahead and read. But just a warning; It's a fucking mess lol, so you definetly don't have to read 
> 
> Anyways, on we go!

_How does someone so little manage to cause so much damage?_ Sansa thought to herself while watching the quidditch field that was littered with pieces of wood and fabric from the stands.

Arya was a beater for the Gryffindor quidditch team and she had of course managed to hit a bludger into, well, almost all of the stands. Even though Sansa had no part in it, she stayed around to help her sister.

Arya had gotten into trouble, of course, and been tasked with cleaning up the mess. The short-haired girl huffed in frustration and pulled out her slender wand. It was made out of light wood and had metal bands curling around the handle. Her sister even had a name for it; _needle._

In a way, it did look like a needle, though not very sharp.

Arya waved it silently and the mess started to clean up itself.

“What are you doing?” Sansa almost scolded her sister, but not quite. It was just a warning.

“Cleaning.” Arya answered like it was obvious. Well, it was, but that wasn’t the answer Sansa was looking for.

“Professor McGonagall told you to clean up _without_ magic.” She said and Arya laughed a little.

“Like I care. It’s not like she’s going to check.” Her sister said carelessly and Sansa couldn’t help but realize she had a point.

“Besides, I have better things to do.” Arya said and looked up at Sansa expectantly. She laughed and gave up trying to be stern with her little sister.

“Okay, like what?” Arya clearly wanted her to ask that.

“I know something you don’t.” she teased and took Sansa by the arm while starting to walk back to the castle.

“What is that?” Sansa asked, actually becoming intrigued. What could Arya know?

“Before I tell you, you have to promise me I’ll get some money for Hogsmeade; five Galleons to be exact.” Arya demanded and Sansa sighed.

“Five Galleons? Arya, that’s five months of my savings. We don’t get much, you know that.” Even though the Lannisters were rich, they simply refused to give the Stark sisters any more than one Galleon a month. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, however, got about twenty Galleons a month as their allowance.

“Alright, four Galleons then! But no less. That’s the price you’ll have to pay.” Arya said and straightened her back, stubborn as she was. Sansa was thinking about turning down the offer but decided against it. Curiosity got the best of her.

“Deal. Now, tell me.” She said and Arya smiled triumphantly.

“I know who gave you the broom.” She said and Sansa felt herself stiffen for a split second, but Arya didn’t seem to notice. _Perhaps she doesn’t really know? Perhaps she is wrong?_ She tried to convince herself all while a tinge of panic seared through her.

“Who?” she found herself asking and Arya leaned closer.

“Professor Baelish…” she whispered in her ear and Sansa felt the hopelessness fill her. Arya was foolish at times, uncaring of what people thought. But if someone else found out, both Petyr and Sansa would be in trouble, although what kind, she could not say.

“How do you know?” she asked, pretending like she didn’t already know. _Perfect, I have wasted four Galleons too._

“Well, it took some time, he certainly covered up the tracks well. But, after a time of observing all the owls in the owlery, I recognized the one that delivered it. I figured out who owned it and snuck into his house when we were in Hogsmeade.”

Perhaps she should yell at her sister for breaking into someone’s house, but she couldn’t help to be a bit impressed. But at the same time, her mind worked furiously to figure out how to convince Arya to not tell anyone.

“I looked through all his letters but I didn’t find anything about a broom, so I looked in the fireplace. There was like, a ton of ashes there and he didn’t seem to clean it very often. I went to a bookstore and found some old book with weird spells in it and I figured I could use it.”

Arya’s voice dropped lower and into a mere whisper even though no one was around in the yard.

“That night, I snuck out of the castle and back to the house. I used a spell I found in the book and started to fix all the burned papers. At first, I didn’t think it would work, I mean, it was just ash. But then it did! And it turns out, that dude was into some shady business, like, he delivered _anything_ according to the letters.”

Sansa’s heart was thumping hard in her chest but her face revealed nothing. She was afraid. Both for herself, of course, she was not a selfless person, but for Arya too. If this man, whoever he was, dealt with _anything_ as she so put it, could her sister be in danger?

“Anyways, I didn’t really read much; I just focused on finding something about the broom. Then I found it but it didn’t say much. Just ‘ _Nimbus 2001, Hogwarts. Payment after.’_ I think the nametag to the package was added later since it wasn’t mentioned. I thought I had come to a dead end there. It didn’t say who ordered the delivery.”

Arya sounded somewhat like a detective when she spoke like that. Sansa had no doubt she saw herself as one, silly as it was. _“It’s a mystery.”_ Arya had said before.

“But, then I got back my assignment from the professor and I totally recognized the handwriting and when I compared, I saw that it was a match. I have no doubt it’s him. I mean, he seems pretty rich with that cloak and everything. What is that even? Silk?”

Arya laughed with her last words. Sansa had never really though of him as rich. Sure, he had nice thinks she supposed, but rich? She didn’t really care even. Her mind was on what to tell her sister. _What should I do?_

“So? You gonna tell him that you know? I mean, I don’t really get why he did it in the first place, he hates both you and me. Well, everyone really.” Arya said and kicked a stone where they had stopped in the yard.

“I don’t know. I don’t think any of us should do anything.” Sansa said and Arya frowned deeply at her.

“Why the hell not? He’s busted. It could be fun.” She tried to convince but Sansa shook her head.

“No. First of all, he could lose his job and might blame it on us. And if he told Cersei, she would be furious that we brought our problems to her. Second of all, how are you going to explain this knowledge? You…” she dropped her voice “broke into someone’s house! The ministry would have to get involved.”

Arya kicked another stone, more forcefully this time.

“That’s no fun…” she muttered and Sansa put a hand on her shoulder calmly.

“Please. And that book? If anyone catches you with it, well, I doubt the spells are ministry approved.” She said and Arya sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll get rid of the book too.” There was clear disappointment in Arya’s voice. She had surely hoped for more adventure.

“I didn’t tell you to get rid of it…” Sansa whispered, wanting to give her sister some hope. Besides, it could be useful, couldn’t it?

“Where would I put it? I always get in trouble for stupid stuff and sometimes they have to search things to make sure I don’t have anything _dangerous.”_

“Well, where is it now?” Sansa asked and Arya shrugged in response.

“Under Gendry’s mattress.” She said and Sansa frowned a bit and strangely enough, almost wanted to laugh.

“How did you get into the boy’s dorms without anyone noticing?”

“I walked in. He doesnt even know about it.” Arya said and shrugged again, a small smile creeping up on her lips.

“You’re unbelievable…” Sansa sighed, both annoyance and admiration in her voice.

“The book?” Arya asked and waved her hand a bit, wanting a solution but probably wanted to change the subject as well.

“Well, I could take it. I hardly get in trouble for anything.” She offered and Arya smiled wickedly.

“Partners in crime.” Arya said and Sansa gave off a small laugh.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

-

Arya's wand:

*I do not own this picture, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this?
> 
> However much I love Petyr, we need some other characters to move the plot, so Arya got to be in the center here! She really is a rebel...


	15. the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! If you haven't read a chapter with Arya, you might have just missed it so you can just go back a chapter and catch up<3
> 
> Please comment your thoughts on this fic, it would help a lot :)

She had seen how his attention had drifted to her several times that class. Her hair was in a high ponytail; showing off her long neck and letting the copper waves cascade down her back.

Each time their eyes had met she had kept the small smirk on her lips but she knew he was the only one who noticed. Of course, she wanted to tell him of the things Arya had been up to, but she couldn’t do that until class ended.

And while she waited; she played the games.

She took her notes and looked up at him again, probably looking rather smug with her performance. He simply kept his eyes slightly narrowed, like he was examining her, until he broke the gaze once more.

She couldn’t really do much more than to tempt him with her eyes and a bit more skin. She still had to wear her school uniform, and she didn't want to reveal herself too much and feel uncomfortable. Besides, she had to pretend he hated her. It was a secret between them only and it exhilarated her.

“That’s all for today. I want the homework turned in by Monday, unless you want twenty points to be taken from your house.” He threatened and waved them out.

When the door slammed shut she had just made her way around her desk and sat down with her legs crossed. Even though she wanted to relive the moment when he had hovered over her with her legs open, she had to deny him the opportunity.

If he teased her, she would tease him. It was only fair.

But at the same time, she would have to talk to him of more serious matters.

“You promised me.” She said, letting him guess what it was. He frowned at her a bit and looked her over; his gaze slowing down by her long legs. Then he met her eyes again.

“What did I promise?” he seemed genuinely confused over what she meant.

“The broom. You promised no one would find out.” She had told herself to not be tempted by him but she couldn’t help but squirm a bit from the look he gave her.

He looked at her while she moved in her seat and sucked in a breath while standing up quickly only to walk to the other side of his desk and then he sat down in his chair. He leaned back and clasped his hands together.

“I’ve kept my promise.” He said confidently, but she could almost distinguish the slight hesitation in his husky voice that never failed to make her shiver.

“No, you haven’t.” she said calmly and shook her head a bit. He kept his brows furrowed.

“You don’t seem very concerned.” His mouth twitched into a smirk before turning back to the serious expression he had before.

“Arya knows. And I did not tell her.” It was almost like a warning.

“She recognized your handwriting.” Sansa continued and Petyr huffed almost like a laugh.

“She could not have recognized my handwriting, sweetling. I cast a spell on the name tag to make it unrecognizable.” He said and his eyes followed her as she jumped down from her desk and stalked closer to him; far more confident than ever before.

She did not know exactly why, but he made her feel bold in every single way.

“You don’t know my sister.  She takes things, well, a bit further than most. You might have cast a spell on the name tag, but not on the letter to the man who delivered the package.” She said and put her hands on his desk while leaning forward a bit.

She wasn’t very close to his face but she could almost feel as his gaze burned hotter on her body. But still, he did not seem bothered by it or even distracted and she was sure it was disappointment she felt. He didn’t react to her move like she wanted him to.

“How did she manage to do this?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“She tracked the owl back to his home in Hogsmeade and found ashes from paper. After buying a spell book, she snuck out of the castle in the night to go back and repair the burnt letter.” She said low, not taking the risk of anyone else hearing.

“Quite impressive…” he said, almost lost in thought but he maintained eye contact with her.

“Will she be a problem?” he continued, suching on his teeth a bit, and she shook her head.

“No, I’ve spoken to her, she won’t tell anyone. But _you_ should be more careful. Arya is fourteen and _she_ figured it out.” She had to admit, she was concerned. What would happen if anyone else followed the same track as Arya?

“She was lucky…” he calmed her and his eyes told her he would not let something like that happen again.

He stood up abruptly and she followed his cue. She still felt a bit disappointment that her attempts of being seductive hadn't given the desired effect.  What had she expected? That he would beg her to touch him like she wanted to beg him? It was a bit silly to have such expectations. 

“Now, we should keep training, don’t you think?” he said and she only nodded while he opened the secret door to the Room of Requirement. She started to feel a bit anxious. Would she have to face the dark shadows of her nightmares so soon?

He seemed to sense her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder while leading her into the dark tunnel.

“You’re still not ready, no need to worry.” He said but she barely heard him. His touch was what comforted her more than anything. So perhaps her moves had made some impact, at least?

**-**

 “Take your wand out.” He said and she did so without question. The Room of Requirement was silent part from their voices and the soft crackling from the fire.

“Think of a memory now and remember; don’t be a bystander to tragedy.” He said low and she nodded before closed her eyes. She knew a memory.

-

_“Thank you mother…” she said and took the cup of hot chocolate in her gloved hands. The snow fell softly around them all as they had gathered around the weirwood. The trunk of the tree was almost the same color as the snow and the leaves matched her mother’s hair._

_Arya screamed and ran away from Jon who threw snowballs at her from his fort that he called Castle Black. The pressed snow flew through the air in all directions and one hit Robb in the face._

_“Hey!” he yelled and threw one back at Jon while laughing as the snow melted off him. Bran was sitting beside Sansa on the furs underneath the tree and was nibbling on a cookie that Sansa had made earlier._

_Rickon begged to be in on the snowfight, so their father scooped him up quickly. He threw the youngest into the nearest pile of snow and the little boy squealed with laughter._

_“Be careful with him Ned.” Their mother said with a laugh and took a sip from her steaming tea. Their father’s laugh boomed in the woods and Sansa smiled to herself._

_-_

 “ _Expecto Patronum.”_ He said, urging her to repeat, and she took a deep breath while opening her eyes. She kept her mind from twisting into the cruel reality and instead tried to live in the memory. She held her wand out.

“Expecto Patronum.” She said with a determination in her voice that she only recently found.

She frowned a bit when nothing happened but then she felt his hand on her shoulder. It was a light touch; like a feather.

“Try again.” He whispered in her ear and she felt him retreat but his hand stayed as a ghost on her skin.

“Expecto Patronum.” She could feel it coursing through her body like a stream of water. It was pure and it was light as it filled the room; creating a shield of vibrating energy.

She was mesmerized by it and felt the shock and exhilaration linger as the light died out when she lowered the wand.

“I did it…” she whispered and looked at the empty space that had just been filled with overwhelming light. She let out a breathy laugh and turned around.

“I did it, Petyr!” she smiled ridiculously and was filled with a strange sense of power. Power over herself.

He was smiling wryly and she was delighted to see it reach his eyes. He seemed to share her joy.

“You did, as I was sure you would.” He said with a chuckle and she embraced him tightly. He did not seem prepared for the sudden attack but he did not interject.

Her arms were around him and she nestled her face in the crook of his neck; letting the scent of him fill her. He had her wrapped in his arms with his hands on her small of her back. She pulled back far sooner than she would have liked, but it had to be done. She did not forget the game.

However much she ached for his touch, she would not give in too much. She wanted to play him; drive him to the point of madness.

He let her go and she made sure she was not touching him and not standing too close to accidently do so either.

“I have to be the best student in class, don’t you think?” she jested and smirked just like he did so often.

“I suppose so.” He said and returned the expression.

“But now, I want you to cast a full corporeal patronus.” He said and she frowned a bit.

“So, I didn’t _really_ do it?” she asked with a small pout and he only smirked mockingly; that was enough of an answer. She wasn’t really _sad_ over it. She just wanted to scold him a bit.

“You could have told me earlier!” it was meant to sound a bit angry but it came out more as a laugh. He only shrugged in response to her comment.

“This time, try to focus the energy. And use a small hand movement. That should do the trick.” He said and winked. Or did she imagine that? No, it definitely happened. He knew the game they played.

She held out her wand again, feeling empowered by his belief in her. _I can do this. He says I can. I trust him. Focus._

“Expecto Patronum.” Her voice was softer than it had been before but it worked nonetheless. When she flicked her wand the familiar energy rushed through her and in shadow-like movements, a shape started forming in the air.

She could hear it howl as it lifted its head. It was a wolf, she knew, she just knew. It sounded like what she had heard on the train so long ago.

It circled around her in short leaps, making happy whining noises and barks before it scattered like leaves into the air. She turned to Petyr with a smile on her lips and eyed him carefully as he did the same with her.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be a wolf.” She said, not accusingly but with fascination. She didn’t know that was going to happen.

“I didn’t know what it was going to be. A patronus can be any animal.” He said and smirked a bit at her innocence in the matter.

“What’s your patronus, then?” she asked carefully while observing him. She wasn’t sure if he would answer even. He was so secretive at times.

“A mockingbird.” He said and his mouth pulled into a smirk. For some reason, his small movements made her feel like it wasn’t entirely true, but she would not push him. Perhaps she was just silly?

“Is that why you have that pin?” she asked and took a step forward to touch it. It was made of some kind of metal but it felt delicate and fragile under her fingers nonetheless. She had recognized that it was a mockingbird from the instant she saw it, but she had never thought to ask him about it.

“Yes and no. It used to be the sigil of my house, back in the days when people cared of such things. I wear it partly for that reason.” He said and shrugged slightly. She waited for him to continue and he looked to be contemplating about something. Was he hesitating to tell her?

“It was my mother’s patronus as well, I suppose I have it because she is the memory I choose.” He said after a while of silence and she retreated her hand to concentrate on him.

“I don’t have very many happy memories, you see. She died when I was very young, as did my father, and that was how I ended up with the Tullys. You know how that ended.” It was the same kind of darkness that she had heard before in his voice. But there was sadness in it too.

She wondered if he had gone through more pain than she had.

“I’m sorry.” She said, just feeling the need to apologize. He shrugged and looked at her deeply.

“Don’t worry about the past, focus on the future.” He said and smirked. For a second, it looked like he was going to touch her but she supposed he still wanted to play the game. He snapped his fingers and the small door from before appeared behind her.

He gestured for her to run along and so she moved backwards, maintaining eye contact with him until she reached the door and opened it. She gave him a small smile and stepped in. Just before the door closed, she saw him turn away whilst running his fingers through his perfectly combed hair.

-

Wolf Patronus:

_#Let's just pretend that this is a mockingbird ok?  lol:_

I thought you all needed some Petyr today:

#he is definitely the best dressed man in Westeros

*I do not own any of these pictures, all rights to the respective owner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expecto Patronum!
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? There is some foreshadowing btw... *wink*


	16. the Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Enjoy my loves!

The rest of her week consisted of Sansa casting occasional glances at Petyr without truly meaning to do so; at the dinner, the breakfast, and in the corridors. Whenever he met her eyes, however, she resisted the urge to stare and instead broke eye contact. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to accomplish anything with it or not.

Margaery had once told her that she had “ _played hard to get_ ”, not that Sansa tried to do it, only Margaery could succeed with such things. The Tyrell girl simply had to be the master of flirting. Perhaps a Hufflepuff shouldn’t be _flirting,_ and instead confess their love, but Margaery was strangely enough quite rebellious.

She liked attention and had no problem with turning potential boyfriends down, even when she had lured them in. But she was always kind and helpful and perhaps that’s what made her a Hufflepuff. It was a strange combination.

Sansa assumed that Margaery was the reason Joffrey had stayed away for so long now. Several weeks had passed since the last abuse and usually it never went that long without a scolding at least.

But she knew that Margaery couldn’t hold him off forever and it was only a matter of time before he would lash out with Ramsay as his companion.  That was one of the reasons Sansa decided to stay at Hogwarts during the weekend while most other students went to Hogsmeade.

It was best to avoid distant places where she would be vulnerable.

But she also wanted to have some time reading the mysterious book that Arya had handed over. It was rather old and the black leather was torn in some places. The spells were scribbled down neatly with cryptic descriptions of what they did.

_ Reparo Totus- prevents destruction _

_ Muffliato- prevents eavesdropping _

_ Levicorpus- prevents escaping _

_ Mutus Mortem- prevents betrayal _

She had a feeling that Arya had used _Reparo Totus_ on the letter. It was clearly a variation of the repairing-charm but she had never heard of this version before. In fact, she had never heard of any of the spells in the book which was a clear indication that none of them were ministry approved.

It was pretty obvious what _Muffliato_ was used for; it was some sort of secrecy spell. But she couldn’t figure out what the last two were for exactly. To prevent escaping could mean anything; a cage appearing, a chain, paralyzing charm…

And _Mutus Mortem,_ she just had a feeling that it was not a pleasant spell.

There were a lot of other spells in the book as well but none were as emphasized as these. The others were merely minor hexes, seemingly created for jokes. She wondered if one person alone had created all of them.

There was no name in the book so she could not know who owned it.

She had asked Arya what it had cost and she had answered that the man in the shop had basically given it away for free. _“Only one Sickle for it he said. He didn’t even seem to recognize it.”_

Sansa wasn’t surprised. Mr. Willick’s Book Shop was an old place and hardly anyone went there unless they had to. The only shelves that were actually organized were the ones in the window. The rest of the shop was a mess of books in piles, covered in dust and spider webs.

She closed the book, cast a disillusionment charm on it to make it blend in with its surroundings, and placed it underneath her mattress.  She would be the only one who knew it was there and if anyone cared to look, they wouldn’t see it.

She sighed when she heard her fellow students enter the common room, filling the hall with meaningless chatter.

-

The book:

Handwriting:

*I do not own these pictures, all rights to the respective owner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but it just didnt feel right to blend it with anything more. But, hey! It's packed with info!
> 
> If you are a HP fan, you prolly recognize muffliato, levicorpus and reparo. I created Repato Totus myself and totus is basically just Latin for total. (So advanced, ikr lol)  
> Mutus Mortem is also Latin and entirely created by me. You can google translate if you want to, or perhaps you have already guessed what it means, but I have decided to not say anything ;)
> 
> Thoughts on this?


	17. the Ambition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter now! Enjoy!

“No, no, no, no.” He said sharply and all the students quieted down. They had just started class, only ten minutes in, and he had tasked them with practicing to cast hexes at small items. Clearly, they had done something wrong.

“Is that what they’ve taught you before?” he said and stalked around the classroom.

“Do you have any idea of how ridiculous you sound? Over half of you can’t even pronounce it right.” he scowled at them made a hand gesture. The classroom was deathly silent.

“Do any of you understand a thing that I’m saying?” He hissed and a Gryffindor harkled to break the tense silence.

“Yes, professor…” he managed to mumble and Petyr walked up to the desk where the boy sat. It was on the same row as Sansa’s.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” he said, a threatening tone to his calm voice. The boy nodded but Petyr didn’t seem to care for the answer.

“You be the caster.” He pointed to the blonde Hufflepuff boy who sat beside.

“And you be the victim.” He pointed to the Gryffindor and the students’ eyes widened a bit.

“Uh, should I cast a hex _on him_ , professor?” The blonde said hesitantly and Petyr sighed.

“They’re harmless if you do it right.” he scolded and they boys both flinched a bit. But Sansa wasn’t afraid. She thought that, perhaps, Petyr took it a bit over the top but at least she knew it was a game. After both the boys had desperately looked in the book for a hex, Petyr lost patience and slammed the book shut.

“The steleus hex, maybe? And you, move to the opposite side of the desk.” he offered and pointed to the blonde. He did not speak as aggressively as he had spoken before, and the boys nodded. The blonde hurried over to the other side with his chair and sat down.

He pulled out his wand and looked rather insecure. Petyr stood with both his hands on the desk between the two boys, and his eyes drifted up to Sansa. She breathed in sharply when he met her gaze but she did not look away.

There was something captivating, and since she hadn't allowed herself to look into the smoky green orbs of his for the entire week, it made him even more addicting now.

“Slowly.” He urged the blonde but did not break eye contact with her. No one noticed that Petyr’s attention was on Sansa. She swallowed nervously.

“ _Ease_ into it. You’re inexperienced and if you rush, there will be consequences.” He softly rasped, all while looking at her. She felt that familiar heat rush out from its hiding place and into her core. It was a flowing sensation in her abdomen that was stronger than the last time she felt it.

She squirmed a bit in her seat in an attempt to feel relief but to no avail.

“Go on. _Ease into it.”_ He repeated but neither Sansa nor Petyr focused on the boy that desperately tried to obey but failed at each attempt.

She opened her lips just enough so that she could let out a breath and in that very moment, a spark flew from the blonde’s wand and hit the Gryffindor in the face, causing a puff of black dust to cover his face.

Petyr straightened up quickly and sighed deeply. The boy had failed. The steleus hex was supposed to cause the victim to sneeze.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff.” He said and silence followed. Sansa couldn’t help herself.

“Perhaps he could get another chance?” she almost whispered and all eyes turned to her but she only stared at Petyr. She squirmed again under his eyes. His face seemed to harden and she noticed his hand was fidgeting with the sleeve of his cloak.

She had never seen him do that before and it took her aback. His jaw tensed and it looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. _Have I angered him? But I was just playing the game, wasn’t I?_

“Class dismissed!” he growled and her classmates practically threw themselves out in a desperate rush, even though the class wasn’t supposed to end yet.   _Does he want me to stay?_

She didn’t know but she moved to stand up anyways and walked away from her desk. _No. I won’t go unless he wants me to._ She decided, but she had only just thought that when she heard the door slam shut and another open.

All the students were out and he had opened the hidden door far too quickly for her to even notice it. He grabbed her hand, almost forcefully but not quite, and led into the tunnel.

It all went so fast and all she could do was follow him. Her mind wasn’t quite working correctly. Was he angry? Had something happened?

They emerged into the light and she blinked to try and adjust to it. But she didn’t have the time to do that either it seemed.

His arm was suddenly around her waist and she was pulled to the side. Before she knew it, she was pinned against the stone wall and his mouth was on hers. Hungry lips moved against shocked ones.

She wasn’t sure what to do at first. He was kissing her so wantonly. How long had she wished for this to happen? How long had she wanted to beg him to kiss her?

He tasted of mint, just like his breath, but his lips had a sweeter tinge. It was addicting and utterly intoxicating when it mixed with his scent.  Her body moved on its own accord and her lips battled against his.

The kiss was much different from others she had received. But she had only kissed Joffrey before and that had only been a children’s pecks.

Both of his hands were exploring her waist; gentle strokes with a needy grip. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and she was grabbing the short hairs on the back of his head. He groaned deep in his throat as her nails scraped his scalp.

She let out a moan in response to when his tongue slipped through her lips. His chest was pressing her harder against the wall but she did not feel any pain; only exhilaration and need.

“You win.” He growled in a quick pause but before she could muster a response, her lips were occupied again.

His hand was on her thigh and slowly moving upwards, causing her skirt to bunch up by her waist. But she didn’t care about being exposed like that. It was _him._

His mouth moved along her jawline and he suckled at a pulse point on her neck so that she gasped. Her sound was quickly followed by a moan as he kept kissing her neck with needy lips. He nipped at her skin and released a guttural sound when she pulled him closer, not that it was really possible.

She only now realized that his black cloak was discarded on the floor and he was only wearing black slacks and a dark button up shirt. Not that she really cared for what he wore now.

Her core yearned for release; _for him._

“Please…” she gasped and she felt how his neatly trimmed beard scratched her skin. Her hips instinctively bucked towards him. He made a moaning sound and it only spurred the raging heat inside her.

“What do you need, sweetling?” he gasped against her skin and his thumb grazed over the side of her breast. She mewed and pulled him up by his hair to taste his lips again. He happily obeyed and kissed her hard.

“I need… Please I want…” she gasped against his lips, unable to form an entire sentence. His hand left her hip and instead moved to where the burn was the strongest. His fingers circled the inside of her thigh and she could feel him smirk against her hungry lips.

“What?” he whispered against her and her hips bucked again.

“You…” she managed to moan and his hand moved to between her legs. She could feel the wetness on her underwear and was almost feeling self-conscious about it but when his fingers touched her there, she forgot all about her insecurities.

He was rubbing her slowly, teasingly, and she felt sparks of pleasure rush through her. The burn was building up inside but she needed more of him. She lifted her leg around his hip to get closer to whatever she was chasing as well as steady herself. She felt him chuckle low and then pull away his head, all while teasing her sweet spot.

His eyes bore into her and she could feel the darkness in them. She loved it. She craved it.

His palm dragged over the fabric of her underwear and then slipped underneath. He moved her curls away with deft fingers and lightly pressed on her pulsing spot with a small force. She mewed again and her face constricted in pleasure. _Please. Take me there. Guide me._

He rubbed her in circles over and over; each time she moaned and writhed under his touch. She was sopping wet when he slipped one finger into her and started pumping in and out. She moved her hips to meet his addicting touch.

His thumb kept working her sweet spot as he slipped another finger into her. She closed her eyes and lifted her head back with want.

“Look at me, Sansa.” He said with a throaty growl and she obeyed, although with some difficulty. His jaw was hanging open and his eyes were burning with pleasure. He seemed to enjoy her every movement and moan.

Oh, she was so close. It felt like her body would combust from all her senses. He was moving faster and more fiercely against her; _inside her._ Gods, she had never felt something like it.

“Petyr…” she gasped but could not finish her sentence for the wave of pleasure that washed over her. She held on to him for dear life.  All the built up tension was released at once and her legs shook with each move from his fingers.

The waves of ecstasy hit her fiercely and her body was pulsating and clenching around him.

Her muscles started to relax after a while and he slowly pulled both digits out of her. Her breathing was uneven from all the gasping and she felt utterly exhausted. She brought her leg down and tried to stand but her legs would not bear her fully yet so she clung to him.

She looked into his eyes again. _When did I look down?_ And saw him bring his fingers to his mouth. She was just about to ask him what he was doing when he started to suck the juices off each digit. it was so...  _wicked._

Her mind had a hard time grasping what had happened, what was _happening._ It seemed unreal but the pulsing in her body proved otherwise. _He kissed me. He touched me. He told me I won._

She couldn’t decide if she wanted that ecstacy again or if she was too exhausted to even try.

He let out a raspy breath as he pulled out the last finger from his mouth and then kissed her again. She could taste herself on him. It was sweet and slick. He pulled away again and had a wicked grin on his addicting lips. She wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Don’t look so surprised, sweetling. You drove me to this with all your small glances, the licking of your sweet lips, the squirming in your seat. You begged for it, and I am more than happy to give you the pleasure you want. You need only ask.” He rasped low and she felt her arousal building up again, although, she was a bit confused.

“But you started it. It’s your game. You wanted me to beg for it but I played instead.”  She said, still pinned against the wall and his hands had moved to her waist; gripping possessively. He chuckled and shook his head slowly at her.

“Oh no. It wasn’t a game. It was an actual attempt to stay away, but that proved to be impossible. You are not a piece I had counted on, but it turns out you might not be a piece at all.” He said cryptically and she frowned a bit.

“Piece?” she asked and his smirk grew serious but it was a smirk nonetheless.

“There are two kinds of people in this world; the players and the pieces. Everyone starts out as pieces and most stay that way; being manipulated by others. But some of us, we know there is always a game to play, and so we make our moves.” he pulled her skirt down and rested his hands on her waist again.

“You’re a player then…” she whispered and he answered with a knowing grin.

“Were you trying to manipulate me?” she had to ask. If he had thought of her as a piece, did she mean nothing? Was it different now that he thought of her as a player?

His smirk dropped and he raised his hands to her jaw and held her steady.

“I thought I did, but you affected me nonetheless. I tried to find somewhere to place you and move you, but the only place that seemed to fit was by my side.” He reassured her and kissed her softly; like a first kiss should be like. Not that she complained about the other kisses he had given her.

“By your side?” she asked, almost feeling out of breath from his touch. He smirked devilishly.

“With my wits and your beauty, the world will be ours.” The darkness in his eyes was back and she found herself liking it. But there was still uncertainty in her.

“What if I don’t want the world?” she whispered, afraid that he would think she was silly, but he did not laugh.

“Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.” He stared into her eyes intently. She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she was intrigued by him, _his_ ambitions. He was offering to share it and she wanted it.

She nodded at him and the smirk returned on his lips.

“But if this,” she looked along his body, “wasn’t a game. What did I win?” she asked and he now chuckled.

“I had to dismiss the class early. I broke the act.” He admitted his failure and it caused her to smile widely. She felt like he wasn’t one to admit his defects to anyone, but had already opened up to her several times. 

She took the initiative and kissed him lightly. It was rather fun to tease him like that now that she knew how she had driven him mad. Well, he had driven her mad too. Perhaps she should feel embarrassed for their acts, but she didn’t. The comfort and feel of him was calming and she wanted to be nowhere else. Only he had made her feel that way.

“Sadly, I won’t be able to attend the Wednesday classes for the rest of the term.” He said when she broke the kiss and she felt her heart drop just a bit. That meant she would only get to see him once a week and she wanted more, not only for his touch but for whatever moves he was planning to make in the bigger game he was talking of.

She wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to stay by his side, even if they had to keep it a secret. For surely the school would not approve of what they had just done and was planning on doing.

“Why?” she asked and he rubbed her arms a bit while she fidgeted with the button of his shirt. They explored each other’s bodies without thinking about it.

“The ministry is showing cracks in the system and they require me to fix it. Little do they know, I’m only making it worse. We will see them fall.” He promised and she put it in the back of her mind for now.

She didn’t have the energy to keep asking questions. Of course, she wondered what kind of job he had with them, but she would wait to ask.

“I’ll see you next week, sweetling.” He smiled wickedly and released her. All she could do was to walk in a daze towards the small door that had appeared. The door closed behind her and she let the dark swallow her whole.

-

Petyr's outfit:

Scene/line inspiration:

Also inspired by this pic:

*I do not own these pictures or this video, all rights to the respective owner.

-

**Huge thanks to Akatra here on AO3 for creating this amazing video based on my fic! I really love it, so you all should check it out and give it a thumbs up ;)**

**Thank you again love, it's amazing to have a fan like you <3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, it happened! Each time I read your comments where it said "Why can't they just kiss??" I resisted the urge to tell you guys. I had this scene planned from the beginning and I'm quite proud of it. It was worth the wait, wasn't it?
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed the smut ;)
> 
> I decided to cut Petyr's classes to only once a week just because it felt like a bit too much to write both classes and I never really knew what to write on the second one. So I just cut one out.
> 
> Tell me your thoughts on this! I'd love to hear it<3


	18. the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my loves! Sorry it's been long, I've struggled with this chapter for a while but I think this works.  
> Enjoy! :)

She could still feel his hands on her; making her ache. It was a wonderful ache, not painful but pleasurable. His touch left her skin burning with sensation and she wondered when she would experience that bliss again.

Her mother had never told her how wonderful it could be to just submit to another person like that. To _allow_ them to touch, to feel.  It was addicting. The soreness between her legs only enhanced the memory.

“Sansa, come, join us!” Margaery exclaimed from the Hufflepuff table in the great hall.

_Can they see it on me? The wrongness? The desire that ought not to be there but it burns inside me nonetheless? Do they judge me for it?_

She couldn’t make her mind shut up. Sometimes it felt like all the people around her knew what she had done. She knew it was silly and it was not like she regretted anything. It was just stupid embarrassment.

“Sure.” She said but wasn’t quite certain they had heard her reply. She walked over to them and sat down beside Margaery who was playing wizarding chess against Myrcella while Tommen watched them both.

“Help me out; Myrcella is crushing me in this.” Margaery said with a giggle and Sansa let a smile play on her lips. If felt so normal to just sit down with a group of people. It was a break from her new life of secrets.

“Bishop to f3.” Sansa whispered to Margaery and she repeated the words out loud, making the remaining bishop move and smash one of Myrcella’s knights. Wizarding chess was just like muggle chess except more barbaric perhaps. Instead of simply removing the piece, it was crushed.

_Is that the way in this world too? Would I have been crushed if I was a piece?_

Margaery squealed in delight for her small victory and Tommen laughed at his sister for losing the knight. The younger Lannister children truly weren’t that bad, according to Sansa. They were both Hufflepuff after all and they actually cared for Sansa. Joffrey was the problem.

Myrcella sent her queen out and smashed the last of Margaery’s pawns. Sansa smiled knowingly when she realized that the move had left her king without defense.

“Rook to e5.” She whispered to Margaery.

“Rook to b5.” She said and Sansa instantly punched her shoulder lightly.

“I said e5 you moron.” She giggled and Margaery burst out in laughter.

“I was going to lose anyways…” she sighed and pushed the board away. It was true, Margaery was awful at chess. Tommen and Myrcella started to repair the pieces and pack up the game while Margaery took Sansa’s arm and they started to walk out from the hall.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to apologize for Joffrey. I heard what he did to you in the yard.” Margaery whispered sadly and gently squeezed Sansa’s hand. It felt good to know that someone cared for her like Margaery did.

“You don’t have to apologize. It truly wasn’t that bad. I appreciate that you’ve held him back the past weeks.” Sansa said with a small smile. It was only partially a lie. Sure, the pain hadn't been that bad, but that didn’t mean she didn’t suffer from it.

_Don’t think about that. You’re stronger now, stronger than ivory. Petyr is forging you into steel._

Her core heated by the mere thought of him and her heart started beating ridiculously fast. She thought about how she would act when she saw him again. Should she kiss him? Should she act like nothing had happened? Should she do neither of those things?

“I do what I can but I’m sure you realize he is getting bored and it is only a matter of time before... Are you sure I shouldn’t tell anyone?” Margaery had asked that question countless times but she never understood. _Petyr understands. “You know when information is best kept hidden.”_

“It would only get worse if you told. Please don’t.” Sansa said and smiled sadly. Margaery would accept Sansa’s wish like she had always done. Of course, if she could, Margaery would leave Joffrey but it was an arranged pairing and Sansa knew nothing could be done.

She heard footsteps approaching from around the corner and immediately recognized the voice that echoed the hall. _When you speak of the devil…_

“Sansa! I was just looking for you!” Joffrey exclaimed cheerfully and Margaery turned towards him, forcing Sansa to follow since their arms were entwined.

“My love!” Margaery said and squeezed Sansa’s arm in encouragement before walking to stand by Joffrey. He ignored his _other half_ and smiled cruelly at Sansa. Myranda and Ramsay were both leaning against the stone wall beside their blonde ruler.

“I haven’t seen you for a while. Why don’t you come and hang out?” Joffrey said and she looked down at her shoes carefully.

“No thank you. I wouldn’t wish to be a burden.” She whispered and Joffrey laughed.

“Oh, you’re not a burden. You’re just a traitor’s daughter, but I’m sure we can fix that somehow. A little punishment is all it takes.” His voice dropped and she could feel his eyes burning with green flames on her. It wasn’t the same kind of burn that she felt when Petyr looked at her.

Petyr’s gaze was warming, yet dangerous. It made her burn from the inside in the most sinful of ways and she enjoyed it.

But Joffrey, Joffrey scorched her skin and made her stomach churn. She was repulsed by him and the green in his eyes reminded her so much of the curse she hated. The curse that had taken her family.

“Look at me.” He said and she hesitated. Sometimes he said things he didn’t really want her to do.

“Look at me!” he yelled and she lifted her eyes to him, but not her head. He only liked when she looked small. She didn’t want to challenge him.

He was licking his teeth behind closed lips and his body twitched a few times. He was contemplating on whether or not he would hurt her. Margaery sucked in a breath and stepped slightly in front of him, shielding Sansa in the process.

“My love…” she said and stroked his chest while he kept his eyes on Sansa’s.

“What?” he snapped angrily and she kept stroking his shoulders and torso.

“Have you heard? Apparently there is a family of baby squirrels down in the yard. We could do anything you’d like…” she said seductively and Joffrey clenched his fist for a second.

“Yes. We’ll go. Who would like to hang out with a Stark bitch anyways?” He muttered and smiled disgustingly at Sansa before walking away with Margaery by his side.

She heard Ramsay and Myranda laugh at her. She looked up at them both and Myranda returned her gaze with a wink and cruel giggle. Seeing them made her skin crawl.

**-**

She was walking up the stairs of the central tower, towards the library at the top. She could hear the few paintings on the walls whisper to each other quietly as she walked past. Before, she was often in the library, reading fairytales of knightly valor.

But she hadn't been there for almost three years now, ever since the trials started, and the paintings seemed surprised to see her there again after all this time.

She ignored them all and savored the silence of the book-filled room when she closed the heavy door. Not many people knew of this place, and those who did never came here. Looking around, she didn’t really understand why she had walked there in the first place either.

It brought back memories of how simple her life had been, how stupidly naïve she was before she had learned; _life isn’t a story._

She sat down on a black armchair by the large window which faced the vast landscape that surrounded Hogwarts. It looked like a fairytale, for sure, but she knew better. The world was cruel and dark, but she could be dark too. She could play their game of secrets and lies. Petyr was going to help her do so.

She turned her head to look around the library. It was a beautiful sight; hundreds of books lined the mahogany shelves and a large planetarium hung from the ceiling. The scent of old books filled her lungs and she breathed it in heavily while leaning back on the soft cushions of the chaise.

She closed her eyes and felt how her muscles were starting to relax involuntarily.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetling.” She sat up in a jolt, startled at the sudden voice but relaxed as soon as she realized who it belonged to. _How did I not know he was here?_

She looked around the room, searching for his warm gaze, and finally saw him sitting casually on an identical armchair. Of course she hadn't seen him, he was half hidden in the shadows and she hadn't really expected him to be here in the first place.

“I’m not.” She murmured but couldn’t hold back the small smile that played on her lips. He chuckled at her and she shivered at the sound. He still affected her with the simplest of things.

“It looked that way to me.” He rasped and raised his eyebrow.

“Fine. But I couldn’t help it.” She said coyly and adjusted her position on the armchair. Petyr’s jaw tensed slightly and he grinded his teeth for a second before looking as composed as before. His slip-up did not go by unnoticed.

“Come here.” He said and she obeyed, but slowly. She had this strange power over him that she wanted to explore. What would he have done if she refused? It was intriguing.

When she walked closer he patted his knee to silently tell her where to sit. She merely raised an eyebrow but still obeyed. She sat down in his lap and he snaked his arm around her waist; gripping possessively.

It was almost a fatherly thing, to have her sit on his knees like that, but she knew it was far from it. She felt the heat stir in her abdomen and the rush of it traveled down between her legs. Her underwear was already starting to dampen with expectation and she wondered if it could soak through and leave a stain on his cloak. She imagined he wouldn’t mind.

“Isn’t that more comfortable?” he whispered close to her ear and it sent a shiver through her.

“What if someone comes in?” she asked, almost breathless from his closeness. She wasn’t entirely sure if she cared for the secrecy at the moment but she had to ask him.

“How can they? The door is locked.” He smirked, a mischievous look on his face that she couldn’t interpret fully. But she decided not to ask about it. She trusted him enough to make sure no one would find out about them, whatever _they_ were now.

“Alright.” She whispered and looked down on her clasped hands.

“And no. It’s not more comfortable.” She said defiantly and she lifted her gaze to him again. He had an eyebrow raised and a daring look in his eyes.

“It’s not?” he said and his mouth twitched. She shook her head, a boldness filling her.

She stood up, never breaking eye contact, and straddled him suddenly. His breath hitched when she sat down completely, her legs open on his lap. She reached out to his neck and fondled with the mockingbird pin lightly.

“I like this better.” She whispered and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. He tasted of mint, like always, and he hungrily returned the movements she initiated. His hands were at her thighs, stroking and gripping. Her skirt was bunched up around her hips and so his palms were against her bare skin.

His tongue invaded her mouth, not in an unpleasant way, and she savored every sensation of his touch. The ache and longing in her body was spurred by his heat. She moaned into his mouth and her hips jerked forward on their own accord.

He sucked in a sharp breath and she could feel his hardness pressing between her legs. She suddenly realized how stupid she had been before; she hadn't even thought about his pleasure. _He sent you away, remember? Now you are in control_.

She smiled against his lips and moved again, causing him to groan with need. The motions pleasured her as well as his hardness rubbed against her. Her hips started a rhythm against him; demanding release.

He suddenly held her hips still with his firm hands and she paused the kissing.

“Sansa, stop. This is not the time.” He groaned breathlessly and she pulled back to look him in the eyes. She understood what he meant. She was a virgin even, it truly was too soon. And yet, she looked down. The lower part of his cloak had been pushed to the sides of his legs, exposing the bulge in his pants.

She looked up at him again, a mischievous idea in her mind and a coy smile on her lips.

“I think we have to do something about that…” she whispered and brushed her fingers over his fabric-covered manhood. He released a slow and steady breath but did not stop her. _I am in control now._

She slowly undid the button of his slacks, wanting him to ache with longing just as she did. She wasn’t quite sure where this sudden boldness came from but she relished in it. His jaw was tense as she pulled the zipper down slowly.

She leaned forward and kissed just the edge of his mouth, so that he chased after it with wanting lips. But she only kept kissing down his jawline and she felt his stubble prickle her skin. His slacks were open and she glanced down, not surprised to see that his underwear was black too; just like the rest of his attire.

She had never done this before. It was both nerve-racking and thrilling.

She stroked the outside of his underwear gently and nipped at the skin of his neck where she had suckled the moment before. She pulled back and looked at him with questioning eyes; innocent and inexperienced.

Even after the teasing she had given him, he still managed to keep some smugness and only raised an eyebrow daringly to her. It was like he spoke to her silently; _go on then, make your move._

She reached down and let her hand slip underneath the soft cotton to find him. She pulled the fabric out of the way and wrapped her fingers around his hard manhood. His eyes flashed with arousal and he let out a groan as she stroked him slowly.

His skin was soft in her palm and she repeated the stroking motion, all while looking at him to see what he responded to. He breathed out heavily and gripped her thighs, his fingers pressing her flesh. She was rather certain it would leave bruises, but she liked it. She liked the idea of being marked by him.

He moved one of his hands to where she was gripping him and he wrapped his fingers around her hand to quicken the pace. She was thankful for the instructions, because she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

She followed his lead and gripped tighter. Moving her hips against his legs in the same pace as the stroking, she leaned forward to kiss him again. His jaw was slack and he could just barely reciprocate the kiss. She supposed that meant he was close to the same kind of crash she had experienced before.

He released a guttural sound and she could feel his hand relax around hers as his manhood softened underneath her palm.

“Sansa.” He groaned against her lips and she suckled at his lower lip before pulling back, her hands retreating from his bared skin. She glanced down between them and saw the white substance that had landed on his cloak that had been so perfectly black.

She was not a complete fool. She knew what it was.

A wet bead of his seed was still on the head of his cock and she let her fingers brush over him again. She only now reflected on how big it was and she wondered how it would fit inside her, if they ever…

Her index finger picked up the drop and she locked eyes with him before bringing it to her tongue to taste. His jaw was still relaxed as she licked his seed off her finger. It tasted salty and it stuck in her mouth.

His eyes were dark as he stared at her. She leaned forward again and kissed him, letting her tongue slip into his mouth so he could taste himself just like she had tasted him.

She pulled back, looked down at the white, sticky, mess on his cloak and smiled lightly at him. She still felt a burning in her core; begging for him to touch her. But she refused to give in. She wanted to deny him the feel of her.

“You’ll have to fix that.” She said softly and glanced down again while pulling his underwear up to cover him. She studied his face and noticed the blue mark she had left on his neck from her suckling, and it made her smile wider.

“And that.” She said and reached out to brush her fingertips over the hickey. _He marks me and I mark him._

She climbed off him slowly and headed for the door. It opened easily when she moved the handle and she suddenly wondered if it had been unlocked all along.

 She denied him one last glance as she slipped outside; looking far more composed than he did.

-

Inspiration:

*I do not own this video, all rights to the respective owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised in a comment on the last chapter that there would be more plot but I couldn't help myself... I just love the smut, sorry not sorry. Next chapter, however, WILL BE more plot ;)
> 
> I really suggest you listen to the songs I link since the lyrics are often a big inspiration for me.
> 
> Please comment so I know what you thought was good and what I can improve! <3


	19. the Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be somewhat of a spoiler but I have to put out this warning:
> 
> This chapter contains graphic violence and implied rape.

Jeyne talked on and on about how great it would be to hang out together again, but Sansa couldn’t quite reciprocate the enthusiasm. She hadn’t planned on going to Hogsmeade this weekend but Jeyne had begged and begged until she simply had to agree.

Sure, it was nice to feel that someone wanted to _be_ with her, but Jeyne didn’t understand how much Sansa had changed; how much everything had changed.

The ground was hard from the cold and the trees glistened with frost. Winter would arrive soon and it was already getting colder day by day. The weather had changed quickly, from rain and storms to cold winds and frosty nights.

She could see Hogsmeade through the trees and Jeyne tugged in her arm instantly.

“Come on, hurry. We have to buy something first.” Jeyne said and Sansa didn’t really understand why they were in such a hurry but she didn’t want to argue and followed Jeyne.

She was dragged into Honeydukes, and the sticky scent of sweets filled her cold lungs. She reached up to her neck and loosened her silver, emerald scarf.  Jeyne wandered further into the shop, clearly on the look for something special, so Sansa merely looked around.

She browsed past shelves upon shelves of different sorts of sweets; chunks of nougat, jelly flavored coconut ice, Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, black Pepper Imps, Ice Mice and much more.

She spotted some small boxes of mint pastilles and wondered if Petyr had those. She had never seen him eat one or anything else with mint, and yet, he always tasted of it. She felt like she was in a dreamlike state when she remembered his taste; all of his tastes.

“Come on now!” Jeyne appeared with a box of something and practically dragged Sansa out of the shop before she had time to say another word.

“Where are we going?” Sansa finally asked while Jeyne skipped forward along the path, further away from the town center.

“The shrieking shack.” Jeyne said casually and Sansa froze, but Jeyne dragged her along, forcing her to keep walking.

“Why are we going there?” she said, fear and uncertainty in her voice. The place was said to be haunted and no one had entered for years. She didn’t like the feeling she had in her gut when she saw the abandoned house on top of a small hill.

“It’s a surprise, I’ve told you that!” Jeyne giggled and did not seem concerned at all. Sansa tried to pull out of Jeyne’s grasp but the brunette only held tighter and faced her.

“No, Jeyne, I can’t…” Sansa stammered and Jeyne looked truly hurt.

“Come on! We never hang out anymore and I fixed this just for you! Please…” Sansa felt almost sick by the thought of walking another step towards the house but Jeyne looked so hurt. _You’re being silly. Nothing will happen. It’s not haunted. Come on._

She didn’t say anything, afraid her voice would break. She merely nodded and started walking; forcing her legs to move forward. Jeyne sighed in happiness and moved along.

It felt like hours until they arrived and by then, her feet felt lighter, or perhaps numb.

She wasn’t entirely sure which, but her body had started to relax from her persistent thoughts. _Jeyne has probably made a picnic or something, she is silly like that. She probably thinks of the shack as her secret hiding place._

Jeyne pushed away some loose planks and ran fearlessly into the house while Sansa followed in. She had to blink a few times to adjust to the dim light but when she could see clearly again, her chest constricted in dread and fear.

In front of her, Jeyne was embracing none other than Harry Hardyng and he was smiling cruelly straight at Sansa, holding the box of sweets that Jeyne had given him. His blue eyes were vicious, hunting. She could almost taste the honey from him and wanted to vomit. _Why is he here?_

_I have to get out of here…_

She took a step back and then, she was certain her heart had stopped for good. Large hands were on her shoulders and she could smell his wretched breath brushing against her cheek.

“Hello Sansa.” Ramsay whispered in her ear. She couldn’t move, couldn’t flee. He was holding her firmly and had the exit blocked. _No, no, no. This isn’t happening. It’s a dream, a nightmare._

“Sansa, this is Harry, the guy I told you about earlier. You remember that I mentioned him, don’t you? I didn’t actually say his name, but still.” Jeyne said enthusiastically and turned to Sansa, seemingly not thinking about Ramsay’s threatening grip on her.

“Jeyne, we should go…” She managed to rasp up her clenched throat and the brunette just looked confused.

“Why?” she answered with an insecure giggle and Ramsay laughed straight into Sansa’s ear.

“Oh, don’t mind her, sweet Sansa. She has played her part already; she brought you here! It was Myranda’s idea. She actually made sure you were allowed to go to Hogsmeade in the first place!” He said and forcefully led her further in. He was gripping her arms so tightly that her fingers were starting to feel numb from stop of blood flow.

“Well, I am a Ravenclaw so it’s only to be expected. It was easy to persuade Joffrey into telling his mother to sign your permission form to Hogsmeade.” Myranda said proudly and appeared from inside the house. Harry started to move Jeyne out of the way but the poor girl didn’t seem to recall what was happening. She was in a clear state of shock and confusion.

Sansa started to fight back a bit, trying to pull free of his grasp but to no avail. Ramsay only laughed at her failed attempts. He pushed her against the wall and squeezed one his hands around her neck.

She could barely breathe, only small amounts of air made its way into her lungs. Her heart beat like a hammer in her chest. She tried to claw at him but his other hand grabbed her wrists and pushed them into her chest.

“Take it easy! We don’t want to end it so soon!” Myranda scolded him and he squeezed tighter for only a second before letting her go completely. She fell to the ground gasping for air. _Oh gods, oh gods…_

She was still weak but her instincts told her to get out and so she tried to crawl away but was kicked in the side by Ramsay.

“Trying to escape? Oh no, were not done with you yet, dear.” He laughed while she writhed in pain on the dirty wooden floor. It ached in her body and she couldn’t stop the tears that escaped her fear-filled eyes.

“Incarcerous.” Myranda said, pointing her wand at Sansa, and thick ropes came out from behind her and wrapped around her wrists and ankles. The ropes retracted and slammed her against the wall. She was bound up like a cross, whimpering in pain and terror.

“What about this one?” Harry asked and held Jeyne by the back of her neck; like a disobedient kitten. She saw that Jeyne’s eyes were as terror-filled as Sansa’s. Myranda walked closer to the brunette and pointed her wand against Jeyne’s forehead.

 “Obliviate.” Myranda said smugly and Jeyne looked like she fell asleep for a second before blinking widely, trying to focus.

“She’ll be confused for a moment, but then she won’t remember a thing of this. Just lead her down the hill a bit and get back here.” Myranda commanded and turned to Sansa while Harry led Jeyne out of the shack.

“Shall we begin?” she said happily and both she and Ramsay grinned horrifically. Sansa frantically looked around the room, for what she wasn’t quite sure. A way out, someone that would save her, _Joffrey._

“Where’s Joffrey?” she rasped, feeling the ache in her throat pulsate. It was so painful to speak now.

“Oh, he’s not here. He thinks he’s the King of us all, and we both got sick of it, so why not have some fun with you privately?” Myranda said giggled and walked over to her. She stroked Sansa’s cheek carefully, a look of distain on her face.

Ramsay threw his arms out in a gest and Myranda stepped away.

“Welcome! Isn’t it perfect? People will only think that your screams belong to the demon in the house!” he yelled and stalked closer to her. All her instincts told her to run for her life but it did not good when she was tied up. It only made her tear her skin open on the rough ropes.

She expected him to take his wand out and torture her with spells, but instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Her tear stained eyes went wide.

She had long known that Ramsay was a sadistic monster, but she had not expected this. He was going to hurt her with his bare hands. He was going to make her bleed.

Tears were burning in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She tried to squirm out but it only gave her a burn from the ropes again.

“Please, let me go and I swear I won’t tell anyone about this…” she whimpered and they both laughed.

“You won’t tell anyone of this anyway, because if you do, we will hurt you _and_ your sister.” Myranda said and even though she could feel her heart stop again only to beat faster the next second.

“Don’t worry, we’ll only hurt her _if you tell_. So be a good girl.” Ramsay said, smiling viciously and stroked her cheek just like Myranda had done. She wanted to vomit from his touch that promised such cruelty.

He held the knife in front of her face, displaying just how sharp it was. Her breathing was ragged and she could barely get any air in her lungs from sheer panic alone. He stuck the edge of the blade into the sleeve of her coat and ripped it open with one swift movement.

She whelped in fright and he ripped the other sleeve, as well as the front; causing her coat to slide down her back in pieces. She was shaking and the look in his eyes was so vicious, so terrifying. He enjoyed every second of it and Myranda giggled from behind him every time Sansa made a sound.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt that badly.” Ramsay said with a twisted laugh and pierced the skin of her arm with the knife; straight through her white shirt. She screamed in pain and it felt like her arm was on fire. Tears were streaming down her face as Ramsay started to drag the knife down her arm.

The blood trickled out and the fire spread in her bones. She screamed loudly, hoping someone would hear her. She tried to endure the pain; hoping she would wake up soon and that it was only a nightmare. But the hurt did not stop.

“She’s screaming like and animal about to be butchered.” Myranda giggled and kissed Ramsay’s sweaty cheek. Sansa wanted to vomit; both from the pain and the fact that the people in front of her enjoyed inflicting pain like this.

“Oh, but we’re not going to kill you dear. We need you!” Ramsay said seriously.

He removed the knife and cut her other arm just the same. She screamed until her throat pained just as badly as her bleeding arms. Her voice was hoarse and she was sure by now that no one would hear her.

“Please…” She whined when Ramsay removed the knife again. He held up his arms in the air as if saying he was innocent.

Myranda stepped forward and slapped her straight across the cheek. The pain was bad and her head rang, but it was no worse than before. Myranda slapped again on her other cheek and her head slammed against the wall.

The edge of her vision was blurry and dark. _Give up. Give up and let them do what they want._ A voice told her and she wanted to badly to obey. But she simply couldn’t. She wouldn’t give them what they wanted.

Suddenly, cold washed over her and her body went stiff. She desperately tried to catch her breath and realized that Myranda had thrown a bucket of ice cold water on her. She was shaking and the blood from her wounds flowed out in greater amounts.

“You looked tired. I just wanted to help.” Myranda said with another giddy laugh and something jabbed into her palm. She screamed again and felt how Ramsay was twisting the knife in her hand. The warm smell of iron was in the air and it got stuck in her lungs.

“Hey! Take it easy! I want my reward too.” Harry’s voice exclaimed as he entered the house and Myranda snapped her head to him.

“Wait for your turn Harry.” She hissed and Ramsay placed the knife gently on Sansa’s thigh. He wiped the blood off on her skirt and then slid the blade underneath the fabric, right by her hip. She whined both in pain and for mercy.

He pressed the knife into her skin and she felt like her leg was crushed as he slashed downwards. The cold of both the air and her soaked clothes seeped into her open wound, making it hurt even more. It was excruciating.

“Come on! I want to have some fun too!” Harry insisted and Myranda breathed out a laugh. She turned to Ramsay and caressed his shoulder.

“Of course. We are done with her. Aren’t we Ramsay?” She said and kissed his cheek again. His face broke out in an even bigger smile than before.

“Yes. Harry, clean up when you’re done.” He said cheerfully, wiped the blade against Sansa’s skirt again, only this time right over her wound. She screamed again from the pressure and he pulled it away slowly.

Myranda took Ramsay’s arm and they walked out with a small wave to Harry.

_No, no, no. Please help me, someone, anyone, Petyr…_

“Finally it’s just you and me.” Harry said and smiled with his pearly whites at display. She whimpered from the pain that surged through her entire body; burning her inside out.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll let you down.” Harry said pleasantly and pulled out his wand. _He’s crazy, delusional, sick._

She did not know what spell he used but suddenly the ropes that held her up were cut off and she fell to the ground; screaming in agony when she hit the cold wood. She was shaking in both fear and chill.

She was completely soaked and the cold air froze her to the bone, even though she still felt like she was burning with pain. It was so exhausting and she wanted to shut her eyes and rest but her mind would not allow it. _I’m not weak._

She felt a force in her body and she was dragged to the middle of the room. She didn’t have any energy to fight back. She just let the force pull her.

“Do you want a honey drop?” he asked and held out the small box that Jeyne had given him. _Honey…_ Her stomach churned but the excruciating pain in her body stopped her from getting anything up as she retched.

He threw the box away and she winced from the sound. _I have to get out. I have to…_

She saw how Harry got closer to her with a vicious look in his eyes. Like he was a predator that would rip her to shreds. She glanced over his body and noticed the growing bulge in his pants. _No. No… He can’t._

She forced herself to move, dug her hand to the side of her skirt and ripped out her wand. It was strange that they had left her with it but she did not think of it. No, she had to do something. She pointed the wand at Harry and his smile died quickly; being replaced with and angry scowl.

 _Do something. Now. Do something._ She was screaming to herself inside her head but nothing happened. She did not know what spell to use, only one came to mind; _the killing curse._

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. The ministry would know. Her stomach twisted in fear as her mind kept repeating; _Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra._

Her entire being told her to kill him but something in her refused to let the power surge out. She knew the consequences for using a forbidden curse. Harry suddenly had enough and kicked the wand out of her hand. She didn’t have time to react to his motion.

Her wand flew across the room and her hand felt aflame, all while her body was shivering. Harry kicked her in the stomach and all air left her lungs with agony. He put his entire weight on her, right where he had kicked and her body begged him to get off. It felt like she was being crushed.

“You fucking bitch. I’ll show you.” He muttered and slapped her hard straight across her ear. Her head flew to the side from the impact and black shadows entered her vision again; dancing, taunting. It was ringing in her head and she could barely hear a thing.

She felt him press his wand down at her chest.

“Diffindo.” He hissed and a large gash opened in her chest. The agony spread through her body and she wanted to scream but she couldn’t breathe. She almost liked how her blood warmed her skin; protecting her from the cold.

But it was painful, oh so painful. Her lungs constricted and she was chipping for air.

His weight was suddenly thrown off her and she could feel the thump of his body as he hit the ground behind her. She did not know what was happening. Were Ramsay and Myranda back? Would they hurt her more?

Instinctively, she wanted to curl up on the ground, to shield her body from more agony, but it was far too painful to move. Her body only twitched as she desperately tried to breathe. She heard nothing but the deafening ringing.

Her vision was blurry but she could see a dark figure bend down to her. It wasn’t Ramsay or Myranda; at least it didn’t seem like it. Did that mean someone would save her? She felt the tip of a wand at her chest again and it was as if a weight lifted away slowly.

Warmth returned into her torso but she could not stop the shivering. She suddenly realized there was a voice that mumbled something. It started to feel easier to breathe and the stinging from her wounds subsided.

Still, she was aching all over and she wanted to scream from the pain but all that escaped her lips was a whimper.

The wand was swiftly removed and replaced by arms underneath her body.

The figure lifted her up and she did not have the energy to even lift her head. Her body was numb and limp as she was curled together against someone’s chest. She dared to hope it was Petyr but when she glanced up to the person’s neck, she found no pin and her heart dropped. She wished he was here.

Her body burned in pain, but she felt something else inside as well and it burned just as fiercely; hate. She hated them all. She hated those who had done this to her.

_I want them to suffer for what they’ve done._

_-_

The Shrieking Shack:

*I do not own any of these pictures, all rights to the respective owner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit what a chapter, right?  
> So, Myranda was the one who had come up with this great plan to get Sansa to Hogsmeade and Jeyne was manipulated into thinking it was a good idea. Ramsay is a fucking phsycho (as usual) and Harry is a fucking sadist...
> 
> This story took quite a dark turn and I hope it wasn't too much for y'all. Next chapter will probably be Petyr's POV (Because obviously he would have some feelings about everything)
> 
> Stay with me on this!  
> Please comment your thoughts.


	20. the Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petyr's POV coming for ya! Sorry if it's short, I just always have a hard time writing from his perspective but I did my best. Enjoy! :)

**_Petyr_ **

He wanted to strangle the boy with his bare hands. He wanted to watch how the life drained from the arrogant blue eyes. He wanted Harry to suffer.

But he stopped himself of doing so. Instead, he made sure the boy was to be locked up for good.

Harry’s mother was a kind woman and had protested against her son’s arrest at first, but when she heard what he had done she simply had to agree to the imprisonment. The evidence against him was clear and an investigation was not needed.

Harry was to be sent to Nurmengard Prison in Bulgaria; locked up and never to be seen again. Petyr would have preferred Azkaban but he knew no one would agree to that, so he had suggested Nurmengard instead.

The professors had been resistant at first. _“Perhaps St. Brutus Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys will be sufficient? Nurmengard is a cold and dark place not meant for such young people.”_ Dumbledore had said; always being kind and forgiving. But Petyr could not forgive this.

_“Something is wrong with this boy and it cannot be cured. What he did was psychotic. It is best to send him far away so he cannot hurt anyone else. Surely you value the security of the school?”_ A few carefully chosen words and they had all agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

It was in the middle of the night and he wanted nothing more than to go to her. He wanted to make her pain go away, and he could surely remain unseen, if it wasn’t for her sister.

Arya had refused to be moved from Sansa’s side. When her Gryffindor friend had tried to lead the young girl away, she had kicked him in the leg and shouted at him. She was a feisty one and Petyr trusted her to keep Sansa safe over the night, but it did not make him feel any better.

He should have realized she was in danger. He should have paid attention to the boy’s moves. He should have _known._

When he had seen Snape carry her into Hogwarts he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her; so small, so fragile. He had desperately wanted to take her from Severus and carry her inside himself. He wished he could stay with her.

  _He_ had been the one building her up, making her realize her true potential and now she was pushed down again. Would it break her? Would all her fears come rushing back and crush her to a fine powder? He hoped not. Gods, he hoped not.

He wanted her to see her enemies fall and he wanted her to do it.

He sighed heavily, once again resisting the urge to let his feet carry him to the hospital wing. Instead, he walked back to his private chambers. He had to occupy himself with something, and he had work to do.

He sat down in his desk chair and dipped his quill in the ink. The parchment lay empty in front of him and he stared at it mindlessly for a long time before writing.

_The debt is being paid off as fast as possible. I can assure you I’m doing everything I can but Gringotts do not forgive easily. It will take some more time for the economy to level out._

_As for the Tyrells, I have not heard any whispers of betrayal. They are getting weaker as your power increases and they will shortly rely solely on you. They are not foolish enough to fight against you. The Boltons remain loyal, as does the Freys. The ministry remains under your control._

He rolled the parchment up and dripped the black wax on it before sealing it with his mockingbird stamp; hexed to make sure only the intended receiver could read the contents; _the Lannisters_ , or more precisely, Cersei. Tywin was usually the one to handle the business but Cersei had been awfully paranoid lately, and it only worked in Petyr’s favor.

It was all lies. He had done nothing to pay off the Lannisters debt. In fact, he had slowly but surely taken some of their money for himself, which was the reason for his wealth. The best part; they didn’t suspect him of a thing.

They didn’t know that he controlled most of their influential pieces. They didn’t know that he was helping both the Tyrells and the Boltons fight against them. They didn’t know that Sansa Stark was _his._

_Sansa…_

He cursed himself for thinking of her again. It pained him to sit here and do nothing when he knew she suffered. It angered him that he could not go to her without raising suspicion.

He stood up so abruptly that the chair fell backwards and hit the floor with a crash. He sighed heavily in frustration, knowing he would not get any rest that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried my best to give y'all some insight in what Petyr is doing in the ministry, but more info will come later :)
> 
> Hey! I've noticed that quite many people are reading this fic. It would help me a lot if you would comment your thoughts and opinions on it!  
> So please, if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you<3


	21. the Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this took long, I just got really stuck on this chapter and had to rewrite several times but I'm finally happy with this.
> 
> Enjoy!

Exhaustion always dragged her back into the depths of sleep. The days blended in with the nights and her mind was in a blur. It wasn’t until the fourth sunrise that she managed to open her eyes completely.  It was early in the morning but she couldn’t bring herself to fall back asleep.

Shifting in the bed, she instantly felt the deep ache in her body, making her scrunch up her face in pain. She could only imagine what she looked like, but was relieved when she glanced down at her arms and found no scars marking her. Whoever had saved her was quick enough with a healing spell, thankfully. She didn’t want a reminder of what happened.

She thought about Petyr and how he had told her that he had a scar, a scar her father had given him. _From navel to collarbone..._ She wondered if it still pained him to look at it, to feel it. But he was still considered lucky in some ways; he survived, just like she did.

If she hadn’t been saved so quickly, perhaps she would’ve died in the shrieking shack, coloring the floor crimson with her blood. She was lucky too.

She looked around the room and noticed she was in the hospital wing. The orange morning light shone through the windows and the white sheets looked like they were aflame. Only one more person was in the room, on the bed beside her.

She looked a bit closer and her eyes widened when she saw that it was Arya. Had they hurt her? But they promised… They said they wouldn’t… Her heart ached by the mere thought that her sister was hurt.

“Arya…” she rasped and her throat stung. She realized all her screaming had probably damaged her throat rather badly. She spotted a glass of water on her nightstand and carefully took it in both of her hands, despite the pain.

Sipping slowly, she felt her stinging throat getting soothed and it didn’t feel as clenched as before. She placed the glass back on the nightstand.

“Arya.” She said again, this time managing to speak a little louder and her sister stirred in her bed with a grunt. She turned around to face Sansa, her eyes squinting against the light.

“Sansa? You’re awake?” she asked and it sounded almost like she didn’t believe herself.

“Have they… Are you hurt?” Sansa asked, stuttering a bit with her raspy voice. _Oh, gods. What if they did the same to her as they did to me?_

“Sansa, what are you talking about?” Arya exclaimed and practically jumped out of bed before rushing to Sansa’s side to hold her hand like it was made of porcelain. Sansa’s mouth hung open, unsure what to say now. Arya wasn’t hurt, she hadn’t gone through that terrible experience, but did she know? Did she know who had done this?

“Nothing, it was just a nightmare…” She mumbled in response. She couldn’t tell Arya about them, she just couldn’t risk her sister being hurt like that.

“It’s okay… Harry’s long gone; you’ll never see him again.” Arya said, both soothingly and spitefully. Arya’s hate towards him was clear, and it revealed to Sansa that Harry was the only one to get caught. She was glad in a way. Justice wasn’t good enough for Ramsay and Myranda, no, she wanted pure revenge on them.

“Where is he?” she asked then, wondering where Harry could be if she would never see him again.

“He was sent to the Nurmengard prison. It’s in Bulgaria or Germany or something, only some of the professors know the exact location…”Arya mumbled and made an angry face. “I should have killed him while he was still here…” She hissed and shook her head in anger.

“No, Arya don’t say that! You know how dangerous it is to say such things…” She gripped Arya’s hand more firmly and pulled her closer. Arya leaned forward and hugged her carefully in a defeated manner.

“Sorry, I just… I hate him, I hate _them…_ ” She didn’t need to specify who _them_ was. The sisters shared enemies just as they shared the blood in their veins. They had an understanding for each other.

“I know… I just want you to be safe.” She rasped and stroked Arya’s arm gently until she let go. Arya smiled sadly down at her.

“You look terrible.” She muttered and Sansa gave off a small laugh, even though it hurt to do so.

“I should probably go fetch Madam Pomfrey so she can start treating you more. She didn’t want to do too much while you were unconscious.” Sansa nodded in understanding, not trusting her voice to make words anymore, and Arya silently slipped out the door.

-

Madam Pomfrey arrived within minutes with a tray of food and healing herbs, and Arya came back with her also. Madam Pomfrey made warm tea and laid healing spells on Sansa for what seemed like hours. After the long treatment she felt much better than before and she was glad that it had worked so well.

Some people came to visit her now that she felt better, including Joffrey and Margaery. Just because Joffrey hadn’t helped Ramsay and Myranda didn’t mean she hated him any less, especially now when he whispered that he wished he had the imagination Harry did. Thankfully though, Arya never left her side and she was quite defensive against Joffrey, telling him to fuck off rather quickly.

Even Jeyne visited and spoke of how horrible it was that Harry did such a thing. It was clear that she had no memory of the incident whatsoever. She didn’t even remember how infatuated she had been with Harry.

The day seemed to drag on forever, but despite the long day, Sansa was still wide awake when the sun was setting. She had been forced to stay in bed all day, and she had already slept for almost four days straight.

The light in the large room was dim and almost purple from the last rays of sun that shone through the windows.  Arya placed a glass of water on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of Sansa’s bed.

“You sure you’ll be alright? I can stay.” Arya said and she smiled, propping herself up into a sitting position with her elbows, despite the dull ache that still plagued her. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before though.

“I’ll be fine.” She said with a smile and embraced her sister tightly. Arya was small and most might say she looked fragile, but if you said so out loud, you’d find her to be the opposite.

“I love you.” Arya said, almost hesitantly. They did not tell each other those words very often, despite the tragedies they had endured together, and it was somehow special when Arya was the one to initiate it.

“I love you too.” She answered and let go. Arya smiled briefly and left the room while Sansa turned on her side and closed her eyes, hoping that the night wouldn’t drag on as long as the day.

She lay twisting and turning under the sheets, unable to find a comfortable position. She squeezed her eyes shut more forcefully, begging for exhaustion to take over her like it had before. But it didn’t work. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts.

She heard the door open and a small amount of light seeped into the dark room. It was probably Madam Pomfrey checking on her, so she pretended to be asleep. The door closed but she knew that Pomfrey had not left yet. Footsteps softly clacked on the wooden floor and she suddenly felt how the mattress behind her sunk down.

She frowned a bit to herself, wondering what Madam Pomfrey was doing, when she felt a large warm hand caress her arm. At first, she froze in fear but it did not last long for she recognized his touch.

She turned around, propping herself up on her elbows and saw his distinct outline in the dark with the mockingbird pin glimmering from the little moonlight that peaked through the dark cloak of the clouds.

They merely looked at each other for a while until she sat up and threw her arms around his neck. She breathed in his scent deeply; mint and musk. His arms carefully snaked around her waist and pulled her close without causing any discomfort. She craved his touch and honestly wouldn’t care if it _did_ hurt.

She could feel as he breathed in the scent of her hair while rubbing slow circles on the small of her back. It sent a rush of heat through her and it felt like it had been years since she had last sensed it. What day was it anyway?

“I would do _anything_ to undo what’s been done to you…” He said, like he was defeated. She pulled back and gazed into his smoky green eyes and could almost see the pain in them. At first she didn’t know what to say. Did he blame himself? It wasn’t right, that shouldn’t happen.

“I know that I can’t…” he continued. It was so strange how he all of a sudden seemed so vulnerable. She didn’t want to see him that way. He had been making her stronger for so long, he couldn’t be sinking down himself.

“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is my revenge. You can’t undo what’s been done, but you can help me, can’t you?” She said, sounding sterner than she had originally intended.  In truth, she didn’t know how to comfort him, if she even _should_ comfort him. All she knew was that something must power him forward, and she hoped this would.

“Whatever you ask that is in my power, I will do.” He said in his low and husky voice. She couldn’t determine if he was still vulnerable or if he was getting empowered. There was a hint of wickedness, darkness, in his voice now, but wasn’t it always there?

“Then help me. Help me get my revenge. I want it; I want everything there is to have.” The words easily slipped past her lips. To someone else’s ears, that might sound greedy, but she had a feeling that it didn’t sound like that to him. He was a Slytherin just like her. It wasn’t greed, it was ambition.

“You continue to amaze me.” He said, his eyes seemingly turning darker and it spurred her heat inside. She didn’t need a clear _yes_ from him, his expression was enough for her to trust him fully.

He leaned forward and crashed his lips on hers and she had to steady herself by holding on to him. It was rather harsh but she didn’t mind. He would never do anything she didn’t want. She was sure of it.

The taste of his lips was so familiar and yet it felt like she tasted it for the first time. She leaned back onto the mattress and he loomed over her, their tongues battling each other in a dance. His hands roamed over her body, gripping and yet never hurting despite her bruised body.

His deft fingers gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it upwards, revealing her bare breasts to him. Once again, she should perhaps be embarrassed, but the way his hands caressed her made her forget all about it. He pinched a nipple carefully and she mewed into his mouth. It was a strange combination between pleasure and pain but she liked it all the same.

“What if… someone walks in or… hears?” She mumbled into his mouth and could feel him smirk against her lips before pulling back a little to look at her. His eyes were dark with desire and she imagined hers looked the same.

“They won’t, trust me.” He rasped low and she did. She trusted him with everything. His mouth was now attacking her neck with small licks and suckles. Her fingers were in his hair, making it all messy but he didn’t seem to care. He trailed kisses downwards, skipping over where her shirt was bunched up right above her breasts.

His tongue encircled her nipple before he started to suckle. She outright moaned at the feeling. It somehow wasn’t enough and she hoped her wanton noises would spur him. He moaned as well, against her breast and she wanted more but he didn’t give it to her.

“Tell me sweetling, why were you awake?” he asked and moved to her other nipple, teasing her endlessly. She mewed in frustration and heard him chuckle before nipping slightly at her skin, sending a jolt through her body.

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” She forced out, desperately craving his fingers to do the wonders he had done before. He chuckled again and placed a gentle kiss where she was most badly bruised on her abdomen, right underneath her left breast.

“We should do something about that, don’t you think?” He asked playfully as his fingers teased her nipples that were wet with his saliva and hard with arousal. She nodded at him in response, knowing her voice wouldn’t be able to make a real word now.

“Tell me, what do you want me to do?” He asked and loomed over her again, gazing into her begging eyes. She needed him to touch her again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked and she nodded, wanting anything he would give. He smirked devilishly and only gave her a small peck. She wanted to protest, she wanted to pull him to her and crash her lips against his, but she was distracted by his fingers on her hard nipples again.

He trailed his lips down her stomach, though never truly kissing, and started to drag his hands over her; down her waist, over her hips and to the inside of her thighs. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but she let him lead her wherever he liked.

He massaged her carefully, teasing her, not touching her center that was burning with longing. He suddenly gripped the hem of both her cotton shorts and underwear, and yanked them down, dragging them completely off her.

She was slightly shocked over the sudden motion but his eyes were so mesmerizing, so hypnotizing, that she dared not even move. His hands were back at her thighs, coaxing her legs to open for him. His eyes slowly traveled down to her bare center, wet and aching. Only now, when she did not have a distraction, did she feel a blush creep up.

She instinctively tried to bring her legs together again but his hands held her wide open. He smirked and met her eyes again, his gaze was piercing. Slowly, he lowered down, positioning himself between her open legs and she started to feel his breath on her bare thighs, but most of all on her wet spot.

He kept his eyes on hers when he suddenly licked right where she was aching for touch. She mewed both in surprise as well as pleasure as he placed his lips on her center to start suckling. It was so strange, but so addicting.

Her hands were gripping the sheets desperately, begging him to not stop what he was doing. His lips moved against her dripping core slowly and his tongue worked deftly around her clit. Each move sent a jolt through her body and she felt the build-up starting to go faster.

Her hips bucked against him, craving more. He suckled long on her sweet spot and her hands moved to his hair in a flash, coaxing him, _commanding_ him to not stop. Her nails scraped his scalp and he moaned deep against her, sending vibrations through her wanton body.

She was moaning and writhing underneath his touch.  She tried to buck her hips against him again but he held her down firmly. She was so close to it; the crash of sensation she desperately chased.

His tongue teased her opening briefly before going back to her clit and two of his fingers slipped inside. He bent the digits inside of her, hitting a spot she didn’t know she had, and she was done for. Her body went tense with pleasure, her legs were shaking as she cried out his name, and her back was arched while trying to get the most out of the wave she was riding out.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as her body quivered once more, slowly releasing the tension, and she could feel him moving up to her again. Her heart was racing from the extreme sensation he had just brought her.

“You didn’t specify where I would kiss you, sweetling.” He whispered and kissed her on the mouth again and she could feel his mustache was wet with her juices.

He didn’t taste like mint now, it was both salty and sweet; a stronger flavor of what she had tasted from earlier after he had sucked his fingers. She reciprocated the kiss weakly, feeling drained out from her intense orgasm.

She kept her eyes closed peacefully and she felt him put the shorts and underwear on her again. He pulled her shirt over her exposed breasts and dragged the covers over her. She immediately noticed when his weight shifted off the bed and mewed in protest.

“No... Stay, please…” She managed to mumble in her exhaustion. It didn’t take long until she felt him lie down beside her and bring her closer to him. She was lying against his chest, feeling as a wonderful sleep was slowly creeping up on her.

She also noticed the hard bulge that pressed against her bottom and would’ve giggled if it wasn’t for her tiredness. Of course, he would have to get some sort of release as well, but she knew it wouldn’t take long until she was fast asleep and he could leave for his own bed.

The weight of his slender arm around her waist and the feel of his breath against her neck lulled her deeper and deeper into the void of dreams. She was falling asleep rapidly, but not before she heard him whisper quietly;

“God knows, I did not mean to fall in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. SMUT. I just had to my loves, I had to...
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? I appreciate all comments, short and sweet, long and elaborate<3


	22. the Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! I kind of got stuck on this chapter as well, oops, but I think this works.  
> Just want to let you know that I will probably be posting less often from now on. School is starting soon and there's just a lot going on but I'll try to post maybe two times a week<3
> 
> Enjoy this chapter!

“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore asked in his scraggly voice, looking at her with a concerned gaze. She assumed he had waited to visit her until she had recovered, and after last night, she felt immensely better.

“I’m better now. Madam Pomfrey has been very helpful.” She said with a sweet smile that she knew would fool anyone into thinking she was innocent and had no thoughts of revenge.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dumbledore said, smiling gently and moving out of the way when Madam Pomfrey handed Sansa a cup of soothing herbal tea, meant to heal minor injuries. She mumbled a thank you and propped herself up into a sitting position, leaning back on a mountain of pillows, before sipping the tea carefully.

“I’m sure your sister has already informed you of the whereabouts of Harrold.” Dumbledore said low, probably careful to not awaken any memories from the incident. She simply nodded and sipped the tea again. It tasted like lemons.

“I just want to ask, who found me? And how? I was sure no one would hear me…” she mumbled into her cup and looked down. She remembered that feeling of hopelessness far too well.

“You are very lucky. A few other students noticed the tumult and informed professor Snape. Thankfully, he was just in time.” She frowned slightly while warming her hands on the porcelain cup. She supposed it did make sense that Snape had come to her aid. He was the teacher that had accompanied them to Hogsmeade after all. But who had discovered her?

“Who were the students?” she asked carefully and looked up at the headmaster. His eyes were always kind and understanding when he looked at her.

“Myranda Royce and Ramsay Bolton, I suppose you have met them before, they are your age.” He said and she fought hard to keep her mask in place while her heart was frozen in shock. She remembered what Ramsay had said; _“We need you!”_

Was this their plan all along? To blame it all on Harry? But why? Just to get rid of him or just to get away? She didn’t know, she had to focus on keeping up her thankful act.

“I’m glad they found me. Forgive me but I’m feeling rather tired.” She managed to mumble without her voice breaking. Dumbledore nodded and said something before leaving but she didn’t hear what he said. The cold blood pumping through her veins was far too loud.

 _They are treated like heroes but they’re not. They’re monsters._ The thoughts only fueled her anger towards them and she desperately wanted out of this room. She wanted to talk to Petyr.

-

The treatments worked faster than expected but she still had to stay in bed for the next three days. When she finally was allowed to leave and start her classes again, Madam Pomfrey made a huge fuss about it.

“You are not fully healed yet! You must be careful. And you cannot train quidditch any time soon! Such physical exertion would exhaust you, and who knows what will happen then.” Pomfrey said and Sansa fought back a smirk. If the old woman only knew what professor Baelish had done to her only a few days prior. _That_ was certainly physical exertion, and she _did_ get exhausted.

She had been dwelling over that night plenty of times. Had she dreamt those last words of his? She couldn’t be sure, the memory was all fuzzy. And she couldn’t exactly ask him, what if it had been a dream. _“God knows, I did not mean to fall in love with you…”_

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy, I promise. And I’ll come back in the evening for the herbs.” She said with a sweet smile and Pomfrey nodded in agreement. She was a kind woman, but stern when she needed to. She simply didn’t allow anyone to risk their health while she was around.

Sansa left the hospital wing to attend her Herbology class. It passed rather quickly and professor Sprout was most helpful in order for her to catch up with the other students. (Even though she had only missed three classes.)

Next was Potions with professor Snape, and he did not give her any special treatment exactly. He merely handed her a parchment with information that she would have to study on her spare time after class. She had expected him to talk to her or something because he had been the one to save her, but clearly he did not wish to speak of it.

Perhaps he was embarrassed, just like she was. It was a bit strange to think about what had happened and when she thought more about it, it was probably best to keep silent. Snape might be the head of her house, but he held no affection towards anyone really. He had saved her because it was his duty as a teacher, but she was of course thankful.

She left class and headed towards the defense against the dark arts tower.  She carefully walked up the stone stairs, still feeling a dull ache in her body despite all her treatments. The heavy door opened for her and she stepped into the familiar classroom.

Before, she had never liked this class particularly much. The exercises were boring and the classroom was dimly lit with strange objects littering the shelves. It wasn’t the most pleasant place. But this year, she had grown to like this room, and class, immensely. Instead of giving her the chills, the room gave her a sense of comfort, and exhilaration.

“Sansa?” She snapped her head towards the sound and her head started banging from the sudden motion. But she didn’t care. All she could focus on was Myranda’s evil smile. _Myranda is in this class. I know she is, I’ve known for weeks now, why didn’t I ever think about it?_ She cursed herself for being so stupid.

Her heart was banging inside her chest; pounding in the same tact as her head.

“Why don’t you come here and sit with me?” Myranda offered smugly but Sansa was already halfway out the door. She couldn’t stay. Not when Myranda was there. She hated her. _Hated._ Of course Myranda would make herself known, simply to spite her, simply to spur fear.

Her head was a mess of emotion and pain. Hate, fear, anger, sadness.

The door slammed shut behind her and she turned to the corridor to her left instead of walking down the stairs. What if she met Ramsay there? Or Joffrey? Then she would be trapped.

She kept her head down, not really knowing where she was headed, when she felt her shoulder bump into someone. She was going to just ignore it but the person’s arms reached out for her, trying to pull her back.

Her head snapped up and caught Petyr’s gaze when he tried to stop her but she slipped out of his soft grip easily. She couldn’t explain to him. Not now, not here. She tried to tell him with her eyes, but he didn’t seem to understand.

“Sansa?” he said under his breath as she swiftly turned around a corner, leaving him standing alone.

-

She waited inside a small cupboard until she was sure the class was over and all the students would have left. Sure, it was a bit silly, but she just couldn’t face Myranda again. She couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. That was the only class they shared together anyways.

She snuck out of the cupboard and looked around the corridor, making sure no one saw her, and started walking back to the classroom. Would Petyr still be there? Would he figure out that she would come for him? She hoped so.

The student’s voices had died out long ago and she was just about to round the corner where Petyr had tried to stop her when she heard the door to the classroom open harshly. It banged against the wall loudly and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching.

 “I’m warning you Littlefinger.” She heard Snape say in his deep voice and she peaked around the corner just in time to see him walk down the stairs briskly; his cloak skimming the steps like a shadow.

She swallowed a lump that was stuck in her throat and carefully walked to the door and slipped inside before it closed. Petyr was standing with his back turned to her, running his fingers through his hair before turning.

“Sansa?” He said with a mixture of worry, frustration and fear. She wasn’t quite sure if all those emotions were directed towards her.

“Where did you go?” he asked seriously and walked over to her quickly. He softly grabbed her arms and a deep crease was in his forehead. She had never really seen him that disheveled, not even the night he had visited her in the hospital wing.

“We can’t talk here…” She said, afraid someone would walk in or eavesdrop. He studied her closely before nodding, putting his hand at the small of her back. He led her towards the door that appeared in the wall and they were soon engulfed by the dark.

They emerged into the light of the fireplace and he immediately turned to her, a worried look still on his face. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, preparing herself to explain everything. Petyr still didn’t know that Myranda and Ramsay were also involved in hurting her. She didn’t know how he would react.

“Sansa, why did you leave?” He insisted and she opened her eyes to look at him. She was fidgeting with her hands nervously.

“It’s Myranda.” She said, not knowing how to continue. Should she start from the beginning? Petyr frowned and fidgeted with his hands as well when he brought them down from her. He was slowly rubbing his wrist. She supposed it was a nervous-thing.

“Royce?” he asked and she nodded, thinking of how to best say the words.

“She was there. In the shrieking shack. Ramsay Bolton too.” She said trying to keep her composure and not go into a complete rage. She hated them _so much._ They were monsters.

“They found you, didn’t they?” he asked but she heard the uncertainty in his voice. She shook her head, anger getting the best of her.

“No. They planned it. They planned everything Petyr!” she exclaimed, angry tears starting to build up in her eyes. He eyed her with an unreadable expression and tried to reach out for her but she stepped away, her fists clenching in her fury.

“Jeyne said she had a surprise for me, in the shack. I didn’t want to go! But I did. I didn’t think it would be so bad. It was only Jeyne, only sweet Jeyne Poole, what could go wrong?” her voice turned into a whisper and she ran her fingers through her hair, tears falling from her cheeks.

“But Harry was there. Jeyne was infatuated by him! I tried to leave, I tried Petyr. But Ramsay kept me in place. And then… Myranda was there, taking credit for her clever plan; to get Joffrey into convincing his mother to sign my permission form for Hogsmeade. Wasn’t it clever?” she cried out, tears streaming down, burning her skin with hate.

Petyr didn’t say anything. One of his hands was still stretched out towards her while the other was tightly clenched by his side. But he made no attempt to calm her again. Perhaps he realized she needed to let it out. She started pacing the room.

“They tied my up with their _stupid_ spells. And Jeyne, of course, she doesn’t remember a thing of this because they used a spell on her too! Myranda didn’t do much, she just watched, smiling. But Ramsay, he wanted to have his fun torturing me…” her voice was filled with venom and her teary eyes snapped up to Petyr.

His face was emotionless but she could almost sense how his hate for them grew from her every word.

“He used a knife. He didn’t even use a spell, he used a knife because he wanted it to be slow, he wanted me to suffer as much as possible because it brought him _enjoyment_. But then they left. Ramsay and Myranda, they left me bleeding for Harry to use. The worst part is that I had my wand. I could’ve fought Harry off then. I could’ve avoided the pain as my chest was ripped open but my mind wouldn’t work.”

Her voice was shaking and Petyr started to slowly move towards her; like she was a frightened animal, or perhaps a wild and dangerous animal. She couldn’t be sure. He wrapped his arms around her, weaving his hand into her hair, and pressed her body to his chest like he was trying to weld them together.

“I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die but I couldn’t use that curse. I couldn’t use the curse that took my brothers, _my parents_ from me…” She sobbed, hearing the hatred in her voice, so strong that she could feel the stinging taste of it on her tongue.

She heard his heart beating fast and loud, just like hers. One of his hands moved up to her jaw and he turned her face up to look at him. There was a fury in his green-gray eyes, a fury she hadn’t seen before.

“If you want them gone, you need only say the word and they will be dead by tomorrow.” He growled low in his throat. She knew Petyr was dangerous, he had told her as much, and the thought that he could have them killed so quickly was strange to her. But she did not want to think of that, of what he could do. It was her fight more than his, even if he helped her.

Besides, she didn’t want them dead now; she wanted them to lose everything they had just like she had. Then, perhaps she would grant them the mercy of death if they begged her.

She shook her head and his eyes softened, only for her she felt like. She still wondered if his words that night had been a dream.

“You’ve told me you’d help me so many times, then do it now. Teach me. Lead me. I want to know how to play the great game.” She said against his lips and kissed him gently; tasting him and savoring the sensation. They had postponed her training for too long in her opinion, and she had to begin somewhere. Now was the time, more than ever.

She pulled back but allowed his arms to stay around her protectively in an embrace. Her tears were completely dry and forgotten on her flushed cheeks. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to begin her special class but he seemed strangely lost.

He slowly seemed to slip into his normal self, a satisfied smirk appearing on his lips after a while. She wasn’t quite sure what he had been thinking about before to make him so different.

He pressed a warm kiss on her forehead and took her hand gently in his. She always liked his hands. They were elegantly soft with slender fingers. She imagined that he would look good with rings of silver or gold. Preferably silver though, to match with his pin.

He led her towards the flaming fire place and she only now noticed that thick furs covered the floor in front of it. He helped her down and then sat down behind her; wrapping his arms around her body. She stared into the yellow flames, feeling the heat on her skin, waiting.

He had a lot to teach her, and she wanted to know everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of this chapter? Any predictions of what will happen?  
> I appreciate all comments, short and sweet, long and elaborate. Please let me know your thoughts<3


	23. the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hii! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter<3

“So, we’re bankrupting them, turning them against each other, and leaving it all to _what_? To chaos?” She asked after hearing about his elaborate plan. She watched how the flames licked the stone bricks of the fireplace.

“Correct.” He said and placed a kiss behind her ear. She shivered when his lips gazed her skin and she yearned for more, but at the same time she had to stay focused. Perhaps this was a test that he wanted to see if she could pass? Could she stay in control long enough to take all the information in?

She sighed, slightly annoyed that he had avoided her underlying question.

“What good will it do?” she asked while he only kept planting soft kisses on her neck, possibly to distract her.

“Tell me, sweetling, what is chaos?” he whispered against her skin and nibbled at her earlobe. She couldn’t contain the soft moan that escaped her lips.

 _Chaos is a pit. A pit ready to swallow us all._ She thought, but had a feeling that his perspective was entirely different so she decided to give him a vague answer.

“I don’t know…” she breathed out when he kissed her once more behind her ear. She could feel him smirk; his finely trimmed beard prickling her skin softly.

“Chaos is a ladder.” He said huskily, sending shivers down her spine. “In the midst of chaos there is opportunity, though most fail to see it. They cling on to illusions of false hope, but only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.”

Her heart was beating steadily in her chest, a rush surging through her but she couldn’t be entirely sure why. Was it his kisses or his words that affected her so?

“And then what? Once we’ve climbed the ladder all the way to the top, the others left behind, what will we do then? What’s left to do?” she whispered, her eyes half closed from his hungry kisses along her neck. She said _we_ to remind him that he was not alone. She liked the darkness he had showed her, but she would not accept being left alone in it.

“We rule.” He said, _promised_ , and twisted her body so that he could kiss her fully on the lips. She could feel how their flavors blended together and creating the most addictive of tastes. She allowed herself to fall back onto the furs with his body looming over her.

She had no more questions for now. All she could feel was him touching her. It was all that mattered.

He tugged her blazer over her shoulders while planting soft kisses along her jaw and she squirmed out of it so he could throw it to the side. She moaned as he suckled at a pulse point by her neck and his hands roamed her body.

He grabbed hold of her white blouse and ripped it open, sending buttons flying around them. She couldn’t restrain the giggle that escaped her lips and he looked up at her; an amused smirk on his lips. His hands found the hem of her skirt and he pulled in all the way down her legs before throwing it to the side to land by the blazer. Her stockings and shoes had come off as well, but she hadn’t noticed when he removed them.

He took the mockingbird pin off and then discarded his cloak with it. She shimmied out of her ruined blouse and watched him, prompted up on her elbows, as he crawled closer to her like an animal stalking its prey.  His lips devoured hers once again in a frenzy of addicting kisses and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue invaded.

She brought her hands to the collar of his shirt and started to unbutton it, feeling it was rather unfair that she wore only her underwear while he was fully dressed. She managed to open three buttons before he gently grabbed her wrists. She stopped and looked into his green-gray eyes and it somehow looked like he was apologizing. He looked hurt.

She suddenly remembered that he had told her of his scar. _From navel to collarbone._ She moved her hands to cup his face and leaned in to kiss him soothingly. It was strange to see him so vulnerable and she wanted to help. She gazed into his eyes once more and smiled gently.

“I have scars too, they’re just not all visible.” She whispered and it sounded rather poetic. He returned her smile, and it was a true smile, not a smirk. She took that as permission to continue and unbuttoned the rest of his black shirt.

He simply allowed her to finish without any distracting kisses and then he pulled the garment off his body completely. Her eyes landed upon a pinkish scar that did indeed reach from navel to collarbone. It looked strangely like a lightning striking through his chest but it did not look hideous as he seemed to believe.

She leaned forward and kissed right at the beginning of it, by his collarbone, and he breathed in sharply from the contact. She let her lips be caught by his again and the scent of him filled her lungs, intoxicating her.

She parted her legs, allowing him to lean between them and she could feel his hardness rubbing against her. Her hips bucked against him by instinct, begging for friction where she ached for touch. Warmth spread through her body, making her feverish as she always felt when she was with him.

He groaned low into her mouth and moved against her in the same rhythm as her hips. His hands unclasped her bra and he threw it to the side. Suddenly, he stopped all movements and looked at her. His eyes were dark with lust but she knew that he was asking for permission. Could she ever refuse?

She nodded and he returned to touching every inch of her bare skin. He lightly pinched her nipples and the combination of pleasure and pain sent a rush through her, spurring her desire. Her panties were soaking wet when he pulled them off and started kissing her inner thighs. She squirmed under his touch and gasped when he dragged his tongue right over her opening and to her clit.

He suckled her slowly, making her twitch and quiver with pleasure. She could feel how the tension in her body was building up; ready to explode in ecstasy. Right when she felt it the release coming, he suddenly stopped and she whined in frustration.

 He chuckled low against her stomach as he began kissing his way up her body. She had a feeling that his lips healed her better than Madam Pomfrey’s herbs. He crushed his lips against hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close and savor the taste of his tongue that was tinged with her arousal.

She felt how he was unbuttoning his slacks but then he stopped and let his hands weave into her hair instead. She frowned a bit and grabbed the hem of the garment and started to pull down. She needed it. She needed _him._

She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted him to fill her up, complete her and give her the crash of pleasure. But she could tell he resisted, perhaps unsure if he should go that far.

“Please. I want you, Petyr…” she gasped against him and he growled low with need. He helped her push his slacks off and kicked them away.

He aligned himself between her open legs and looked up at her with dark and greedy eyes. The scent of their arousal clung thick in the air and the heat of their bodies mingled with the heat of the fire from the hearth.  She could feel the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing her, making her whine for him.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you.” He said but she could hear how much he had to restrain himself from plunging into her immediately.

“Yes, please Petyr…” She began but it was all he needed to hear. He thrust forward and slowly filled her to the hilt. She cried out and clung onto him, digging her nails into his scalp. It stung between her legs as he stretched her and the aching she usually felt was replaced with a different ache. It hurt.

She could feel her eyes getting watery from the sudden pain, but it dulled rather quickly, to her surprise and delight. She started to relax her muscles around him and he slowly pulled out, a moan coming from his lips. The painful ache was soon replaced with that familiar pleasure that he always managed to give her.

He was still going slowly, his breathing heavy with grunts and moans against her skin. She bucked her hips against him to urge him to go faster and so he did. His thrusts became more frenzied and harder, building up to her orgasm. She mewed with each pounding, loving the feeling of him inside her. The fire was raging inside her, burning her with need and arousal.

“Gods, Sansa…” he grunted and she cried out in pleasure when he started to rub his thumb against her clit. Her back arched at the sensation and pleasure surged through her body when she finally tipped over the edge. It was so much more powerful than anything she had ever felt before.

“Petyr…” She gasped and shuttered underneath him while he kept pumping, spurring her orgasm longer and longer until he joined her in ecstasy. She felt him spill inside her, a warm flush of pleasure, and he collapsed onto her. He just held himself up to not crush her and then he managed to roll to the side. She whined when he was no longer inside of her and she yearned for his fullness again.

He chuckled at her small complaint and drew her closer to him. They both lay there on the thick furs, gasping and breathing heavily, bodies entwined with a thin sheen of sweat covering their skin. She sighed and leaned on his chest as she drew shapes on his scar. She found it strangely mesmerizing.

He pulled some furs up to cover their nude bodies and nestled his face into her copper hair that was sprawled out around her. She felt utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep by his side but she had already missed the last class of the day and she had to visit Madam Pomfrey again before curfew.

She restrained a giggle when she thought of what Madam Pomfrey had told her _“Physical exertion would exhaust you.”_ Indeed it did.

But she couldn’t bring herself to leave just quite yet. She simply lied there, listening to his heart as it slowed down and his breathing steadied. She wanted to ask him more questions; _Rule? How can we rule? How do I fit into all this? When will I become a true player? **Were your words just a dream?**_

But she couldn’t bring herself to speak either. She looked up at him and couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her swollen lips. He was so peaceful now as he had fallen asleep. He had not a care in the world and she thought about how she had been the one to get him there. He had exhausted himself completely for her _. With_ her.

His hair was messy and his nude form fascinated her. She had felt him, _all of him,_ and she adored it.

She forced herself to slowly move away, no matter how much she wanted to stay. She carefully slipped out of his embrace and his brows furrowed in his sleep. _Does he miss me? Does he feel the need to hold me close even in his unconscious?_

She silently picked up her clothes that were scattered around the room. She pulled her skirt up, put her bra on, and fixed her ruined blouse with a quick spell before putting it on as well, followed by the black blazer.

She fixed her long stockings and tied her shoelaces before bending to pick up the panties that were almost completely soaked from her arousal. She had a wicked thought and for some reason she felt like he would like her little gift.

She folded his clothes neatly and put them in a stack beside him. Then, she placed her wet undergarment on the stack and lastly, the mockingbird pin on top of it all. She smiled wickedly at her masterpiece and turned to him again.

She walked closer and felt how his seed slowly started to drip out of her with nothing to stop it. She would have to hurry back to the common room and clean herself.

His brows were still furrowed and he stirred a bit before relaxing again. Her smile softened and she knelt down on the furs, gazing down at him, admiring him. Gods, he was wonderful like this. _It couldn’t have been a dream._

“I love you too.” She whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear herself, but she _felt_ it and that was all that mattered. She softly pressed her lips against his, lightly as a feather as to not wake him. When she pulled back, he looked calmer and she smiled once again. **_It wasn’t a dream._**

The small door appeared as soon as she stood up and she was delighted to see that the room listened to her as well and not just Petyr. _It is **our** room. _She thought and stepped through the door with one last look at him sleeping peacefully in front of the blazing fire, naked underneath the fur cover.

 _Do not let anyone find him in this state. That would certainly create a fuss._ She silently wished to the room and closed the door, feeling confident that no one would be allowed inside. _She_ would be the only one to ever have him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT IS SO DIFFICULT TO WRITE WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF
> 
> Anywaysss, I tried to give you some more plot but you're just going to have to wait a liiitle longer to see her play the game more.  
> I decided that they should go all the way in this chapter just because it opens a window of more kinky smut around the castle *wink*  
> Also, Sansa can control the room now ayee. Just to show that she does have useful powers and is not completely helpless lol.
> 
> So hopefully you enjoyed this, even though it's not perfectly written. I really just struggled with putting the words on paper. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! <3


	24. the Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, here we go.  
> I still have so many cliffhangers and things that I need to close up but that will probably happen in the next chapter :) some answers here anyways, enjoy!

**_Petyr_ **

He stretched out his arm, stupidly expecting to find her beautiful nude body beside him, but the fur was cold. Of course she had left, she was clever and knew she had to get back before people started looking for her.

He sighed tiredly and rolled onto his stomach, feeling her scent still lingering around him mixed with the thick humid air of their sex. It was impossible to forget the feeling of her in his arms, quivering with pleasure, begging for more of him. The memory was enough to get him half-hard.

Gods, he wished he could have her again. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and taste her arousal as she twitched in ecstasy. He wanted to see her take control and feel as she worked her delicate fingers all over his body that ached for her touch alone. He wanted to feel her walls clench around his cock over and over again until he too tipped over the edge and spilled inside her once more.

How sweet wouldn’t it be if she was his completely, if he could pleasure her each night and wake up beside her each morning? Gods, he wanted that. He wanted _her_. He needed _her_. And to make things even worse; _he loved her._

He cursed himself for being such a fool. _To love is to destroy._ That’s what he had always told himself. He had been destroyed by loving Catelyn and he vowed to never fall in love again. _Idiot!_

He had sensed it coming. He had felt her presence affect him. But what had he done? He had dismissed it, ignored the warning that his body displayed. He had told himself that it was merely curiosity, fascination, and desire. He let it go too far.

But did he regret anything? He couldn’t say for sure if he did.

What he felt for her wasn’t some silly children’s love. Sansa awoke so much more in him. She thrived in the lies and schemes he had told her of, while most others would retreat in fear. She was a creature like no other; innocent yet wicked, gentle yet fierce, warm yet cold.

Most of all, she was like him. She had loved the Lannister boy and the love destroyed her, like so much else had. Could they both be destroyed when they had already been shattered? No, he did not believe they could. They had fallen to the bottom and the only way to climb was up. _Up the ladder of chaos._

Still, one question remained; _did she love him?_ He dared not even ask himself such a question. What would he do if she didn’t? What would remain of him if she wasn’t by his side?

If he searched deep into his dark mind, he could almost hear her say the words he desperately wanted to hear; _I love you too._ Her delicately soft voice was so real in his head and he wondered if perhaps it wasn’t imagined. He repeated it over and over again and it suddenly felt like she was in the room with him, whispering her sweet confession of love, but when his eyes snapped open she was nowhere to be seen.

_I’m going mad._ He cursed himself once again and rolled over on his back, groaning as he stretched. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get the sleepiness out. How long had he been asleep anyhow? He knew he would soon have to go to the ministry for the weekly meetings. Perhaps he had missed it? Did he care?

Gods, he had become far too reckless for his own liking, and it put both him and Sansa in danger.

He hadn’t even noticed… He hadn’t even counted it into the equation; _that someone would see._

But Snape had seen. He had studied both Petyr and Sansa while they had remained ignorant of his observation. Of course, not everyone could miss their fleeting glances, their far too long detentions, their aching to be closer, but Petyr hadn’t expected anyone to actually look into it.

Snape had _seen_ when she fled from the classroom. He had _seen_ the touch Petyr had given her, full of concern and need. Snape hadn’t let it slip this time.

_“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her. Don’t think I’m one of your little puppets. You manipulate people but I’m warning you, I will not be so easily affected by your lies. Stay away from the Stark girl. I don’t know what your game is, but you better leave her out of it. She is a student and it is my job to keep her safe and I know that she is in more danger with you than anyone else. I’m warning you Littlefinger.”_

It was true. She was in more danger with him than anyone else, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But what could be done when she wanted it? What could be done when she _needed_ it? Danger was a part of the great game, she knew, she chose to play it anyway.

He had intended to speak with her when she returned. He had intended to stay away, to let her think about what she was getting into, but she was already in too deep and seemed to have no intentions of stopping. How could he ever refuse her?

She wanted revenge on those who had wronged her and he could do nothing but help. When she told him of what Ramsay and Myranda had done to her, the emotion was far stronger than what he felt for Harry.

He still wished he could kill Harry with his bare hands, but he wanted to make the other two suffer beyond measure before they died. If Sansa had wished for it he would have killed them within the hour in the most painful of ways, but she was clever and she knew that the long game would pay off.

He would enjoy teaching her all he knew. He would enjoy watching their enemies fall. He would enjoy fucking her after each victory if she allowed it. Nothing would stop them.

The world would truly be theirs.

He smirked devilishly as he stared at the decorated stone ceiling above him. He had been stuck in his thoughts for far too long now and knew he had to get to work, no matter what time it was.

He sat up and rubbed his face again, still rather exhausted. He looked around, seeing a mess of furs sprawled out around him but his eyes were drawn to the neatly folded stack of clothes. Crawling closer, he saw that it was not only his clothes left.

Her black panties still smelled of her sweet musk and he smirked again as he held them in his hands. She had left this room without her underwear simply so he could have it as a little gift. Gods, she certainly knew how to drive him mad with desire.

He chuckled to himself and got dressed, trying to make himself look composed and poised as always. He breathed in her scent of arousal  one last time and folded the undergarment neatly before putting them in the pocket of his slacks.

He had a job to go to, but as soon as that was done, he would find Sansa and truly incorporate her into his plans. So much remained to be revealed. So much remained to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg Snape is SUSPICIOUS AF. I know there is still quite many things I need to address (like wtf is going on in the ministry and what Petyr's plans actually are) the only problem was that I didn't even know for sure. BUT I know now and I'll answer sooo many things the next time Petyr and Sansa talk!
> 
> Quote: "To love is to destroy"- The Mortal Instruments
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? I'll be happy to recieve some feedback <3


	25. the Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haiiii! Sorry it's been long, School and PxS week on Tumblr has taken up a lot of my time.
> 
> I struggled a bit with this chapter and decided to split it into two parts, part 2 will be posted as soon as it's finished.  
> Enjoy!

She skipped all her classes that day, saying she didn’t feel good. It was a reasonable excuse since she was still recovering from her _‘accident’_ as they called it. She actually felt perfectly fine, she just didn’t want to meet Myranda again. Besides, Petyr wouldn’t be in class. He was at the ministry doing only god knows what.

She wondered if he was back yet. Did he come back at night or in the mornings? She didn’t know. Half of the Slytherin house was already asleep, the rest slowly drifting off one by one. But Sansa was wide awake.

She needed to see Petyr again and not be distracted by any of his kisses, no matter how lovely they were. No, she needed answers. _True_ answers. Not just some vague explanation of what he was planning, but instructions, things to _do._

She pulled the covers off her legs and silently walked towards the door, her bare feet patting the stone floor softly. She grabbed her clothes on the way out and someone stirred in their bed when the hinges of the door creaked but no one cared enough to stop her from leaving. They all probably just assumed she would sit by the fire in the commonroom.

But that’s not what she had in mind. She put her clothes on as soon as she was out of the sleeping dorm, skipping the blazer and stockings in laziness, and snuck out.

She tried to walk without light for a while but the hallways were far too dark for her to see anything. After walking into a wall for the second time, she used lumos to light the way. She hoped that Petyr was back by now. What would she do if he wasn’t? Go back to the commonroom? She wasn’t sure yet. Was waiting for him even an option?

The paintings on the wall complained of the bright as she passed by but she paid them no mind. They probably couldn’t even see her face. She stopped briefly and looked around, trying to see exactly where she was. Why was it so difficult to find the right way in the castle at night? It seemed like everything was changed and yet so familiar.

She suddenly heard faint footsteps echoing in the halls behind her and she panicked for a second before she whispered ‘nox’ and the light from her wand died out. But before she had time to hide somewhere in the shadows, the bright light returned but not from her wand this time.

She blinked and shielded her eyes with her hand. When she finally adjusted to the light, professor Snape was staring back at her with his usual grim look and piercing black eyes.

“Stark. What are you doing wandering the corridors at night?” he said and eyes her suspiciously. “Surely you are aware that it’s after curfew, and after what happened to you the last time you were alone, you ought to be careful.” His black eyes shot up at hers and his eyebrow arched slightly, waiting for an answer. Her mouth hung open and her eyes could only stare back at him, like a deer in headlights. How would she get herself out of this one?

“I…I was…” she stammered while Snape stared her down, making her tremble. He looked at her like he would force a truthful answer out of her if he did not get one immediately and her heart was beating faster and faster for each passing second.

“I was sleepwalking.” She finally said and blinked like she had just woken up to support the lie. Snape’s jaw was tense and he seemed to be skeptical of her answer. No, he didn’t believe it at all.

“Clever lie. Who taught you such things I wonder.” Snape said, clear distain in his voice, and she stopped breathing for a moment. Was he talking about…

“Severus!” Petyr’s voice called almost gleefully and Snape whipped his head around just as he emerged from the dark, his silver pin glimmering like a silver eye by his neck. Sansa relaxed as soon as she could see him but quickly tried to hide her relief when Snape glanced back at her.

“Well, well. Baelish, back from the ministry I see.” Snape almost hissed as Petyr only smirked and walked up to him, his body only slightly turned in Sansa’s direction. Her eyes flew widely between them as their burning gazes fought in silence.

“Yes, I returned mere hours ago.” Petyr finally said and even flashed some of his teeth as he smirked and then turned to Sansa as she silently watched a few steps away. “Sansa, are you alright?” he said and her eyes widened in worry when he used her first name. _He shouldn’t have done that._ He should pretend to hate her, he should call her Miss Stark, frown in her direction and not care for her well-being.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded in response, not trusting her voice to form actual words. Why wasn’t he playing the game? Didn’t he know how dangerous this was? Petyr’s eyes traveled over her body quickly, scanning, and then he turned his head to Snape.

“Have a nice evening professor. Sansa, come with me please.” He said, taking a few steps towards her, but Snape quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Petyr glanced over Snape’s shoulder and met Sansa’s eyes that were now wide with both confusion and worry. Uneasiness spread inside her like vines with icy thorns.

She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her with that gaze and all she could do was watch. Petyr did not seem fazed with Snape’s threatening move but Sansa’s heart beat loudly in her chest. Why did Snape hate Petyr so much? More importantly; _what should she do?_

“Perhaps it escaped your notice but I gave you a clear warning before and I will not be so gentle next time.” Snape said in a low and icy tone, sending shivers of fright down Sansa’s spine. She was afraid of what this entire situation would bring. She didn’t fully understand what Snape was talking about.

She wanted to stop whatever this was before something happened, before Petyr could say more foolish things. She _wanted_ to do that, but her body wouldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move? It was like her muscles had frozen, stiff with something similar to fear but not something she could control, and she was suddenly dragged backwards.

Her screams caught in her throat and remained inaudible. No one except her seemed to notice how she was pulled into the dark unwillingly, her body fighting to be free of the invisible constrains. Her back hit a stone wall and she thought for sure that she would be crushed against it but to her surprise, she disappeared into it.

As soon as she was through, the force that had kept her imprisoned suddenly released and she gasped of relief. But when her hands fumbled around in the shadows, she could not feel anything but cold stone around her. Panicked, she banged her fists against the barriers but they did not sink away like they had when she was forced to enter.

“Help! Please let me out!” she yelled and kicked the walls but no answer came. She knew that Snape and Petyr couldn’t be far away, so why couldn’t they hear her? Silent tears unwillingly streamed down her face and she let her body sink to the floor. In a way, she simply accepted that pain would come . Perhaps Ramsay wanted to have more fun with her…

But instead of the pain she was bracing for, she heard voices echoing around her. Was she going mad?

 “She has her mother’s eyes, and hair for that matter, is that why you are so interested? Have you found Catelyn’s replica to obsess over?” Snape’s voice hissed, the disgust clear in his words.

“Catelyn Tully was once everything I wanted.” Petyr spoke with a strangely humorous tone, like he was amused by speaking to Snape about it.  “But you know how our story ended and I can assure you that it did end rather quickly. I despised her from that moment on.” Sansa only sat still, tears still falling down her cheeks, and she wondered if all she heard was real or if it was all in her head.

“If you spent half as much time in your own business as you do in mine, you might actually accomplish something. Is that why you’re here now Severus? Jealous of my position that you have strived after but never gotten? It is flattering, really, you feeling such dread at the prospect of me getting what I want. I suggest you stay out of all this.”

Petyr’s voice was deep and husky, it was the voice he used when he truly meant what he said and it sent shivers down Sansa’s spine. It must be real then, mustn’t it? This couldn’t just be happening in her head. But if she could hear their voices, would they hear her if she shouted again? Perhaps, but for some reason she sat still, not making another sound.  This time fully in control of her actions.

“Stay out of it? And let you _use_ the girl for power that you don’t deserve?  Why would I do that Littlefinger, when I could just speak to the headmaster and have you thrown out?” Snape threatened, a force and hatred in his voice that Sansa had never heard before. _The girl…_ Was he talking about her? He must be…

“Do you really want to play against me?” Petyr said with a low chuckle. “I’d do anything to get what I want, do not think I would hesitate striking you off the board. Make peace with me now, while you still have the chance.”

It was quiet for a time and Sansa still sat curled up, her arms wrapped around her legs, listening patiently. She didn’t know if she would ever be let out but it somehow didn’t matter to her right now. She felt numb in her emotions, only her senses feeling alive.

“Make peace with you?” Snape spat out with disdain and she could barely hear the faint humorless chuckle from Petyr.

“We only make peace with our enemies, Severus. That’s why it’s called making peace.” She could almost see Petyr’s smirk in front of her, mocking smugly. “Now, if we have an agreement to stay out of each other’s business, I should like to retire to my chamber.” Petyr said and his footsteps came closer to where she was trapped inside the wall.

She quickly stood up and banged on the stone until her hands felt numb. He must hear her now. He _must._

“Where is the girl?!” Snape called suddenly and Petyr’s footsteps stopped right in front of her, only a cold barrier between them. She wished she could reach through.

“How should I know? She’s certainly not with me.” Petyr said and her eyes welled up with tears again.

“Petyr! Petyr please, help me!” she called and felt as warm blood trickled down her hands as she beat the stone wall. She did not know exactly when silence took over the halls outside and left no sign of either Petyr or Snape, only that it did. She was left in tears, still entombed within the stone.

She felt like sinking down to the floor again and weep, but once again she could not move and it did not take long until she was pulled further back and emerged into the familiar room. The crackling of fire and musky scent filling her lungs brought a calming sensation to her and as soon as she felt his arms around her she fell against him.

“I’m so sorry. Sansa, I’m sorry, please, look at me.” Petyr said and cupped her face with a determined force and yet with such tenderness. She opened her tear stained eyes and stared at him with confusion as the wheels turned in her head.

“How did you…” she began but did not know how to finish her sentence. Too many questions swirled in her mind but somehow his eyes displayed the most important one.

“It was you… You did this…” It wasn’t a question and his sigh confirmed her words. Her shocked face turned into a scowl and Petyr shook his head slightly, perhaps in an attempt to calm her but she didn’t feel like it worked. She pushed her hands against his chest but not with enough force to actually be free of him.

“How could you? I was terrified, Petyr!” She yelled and fought against his arms that were now wrapped around her waist. She couldn’t hit him very hard, both because of her aching hands and because of her overwhelming emotion. She did not actually want to hurt him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Sansa. Please forgive me, I just…” He pleaded but with an aggression in his voice that was unknown to her. He held her shoulders firmly and forced her eyes to lock on his, to drown in his gaze.

“I needed you to know. I needed you to listen, to _learn._ I did not mean to cause you pain, you must believe me, but I did not have much time to come up with any other way to get you out of sight.” He said and they were both panting from the struggle against each other.

“ _Know_ what?” she asked as her eyes were drying up. She did not need to cry any longer, neither of fright nor anger. Petyr sighed again and broke eye contact only for a second before looking back at her.

“Snape is aware of my… us.” He said with uncertainty and must’ve noticed the fear in her eyes as he spoke. “Although I do not believe he knows much. He has merely observed me and taken notice of my fleeting glances.” He continued and a small smile tugged at his lips lightly before returning to the serious expression of before.

She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. Gods, this was too much. Too many questions, too many loose ends. She took Petyr’s hand firmly and walked over to the desk that was placed in the middle of the room. Had that been here all along? _That doesn’t matter._

Petyr seemed to understand what she needed and sat down on one of the chairs while she sat down on the other. She clasped her scraped hands together on the desk, sitting on opposite sides of him and she sorted her thoughts thoroughly.

“How much does Snape know?” she finally asked and she was certain that Petyr would answer her every question. He had to.

“I’m not sure, not much I assume. He does know that I have taken an… interest in you but he does not seem to know how invested you are with me.”

“Do you think he will tell anyone?”

“Not if he wants to live in the nearest future. I believe my threats will be enough for now but if he finds a good enough reason, he might let it slip.”

“Myranda used a spell to wipe the memory of Jeyne at the shrieking shack. Can’t we use that?” She felt like that would work but Petyr slowly shook his head and with that crushed her hopes.

“I am familiar with the spell you’re speaking of and although it seems good, it is not stable. It shifts the balance of the victim, makes him or her more forgetful, confused, and sometimes even mad. It would create too much suspicion, not to mention that the memory _can_ be brought back, although with painful counter-spells.”

“What do we do then?”

“For now, nothing. We must simply keep him unknowing of our plans and perhaps pretend to hate each other even more. Always keep your foes confused, Sansa.” He said and smirked. She couldn’t help but let a smile tug her lips up a bit. She liked it when he taught her things like that. _Ways to conquer the world._

“And what are our plans exactly?” She asked and her expression turned serious once again. “You haven’t exactly told me much. You haven’t told me how I fit into this.” Petyr sighed and clasped his hands in his lap, mimicking her.

“You’re right, I haven’t told you much.” He confessed and she raised an eyebrow, commanding him to continue. “Are you familiar with Aerys Targaryen?” He suddenly asked and she was slightly taken aback by that question. What did he have to do with anything?

“I’ve heard of him, yes, but I don’t know every detail-“

“That’s the important part, sweetling. _The details.”_ Petyr interrupted and she silently urged him to explain.

“Aerys always aspired for a greater position in the ministry and it did not take long until he was appointed minister. But the success, and his _pure Targaryen blood_ , slowly teared at his sanity. He was obsessed with dragons and wanted all kinds he could get his hands on. He despised muggles and wanted to keep them as slaves.

When the rest of the ministry disapproved of his _ideas_ he promised that he would burn them all with his dragons and he would be reborn from the ashes, like a phoenix but a dragon instead. Thankfully, before he could set his plan fully into work, he was captured by his councilmembers, your father included.

Aerys was put into Azkaban where he _sadly_ died of unknown causes. It could have been his madness that took his life, could have been poison, no one cared to investigate.”

She still failed to see where this story was going and Petyr seemed somewhat amused by her confusion. He smirked and arched his eyebrows, teasing her with the hidden knowledge that he possessed.

“Most of his family was already dead by that time however. His wife Rhaella was killed by Aerys himself as he believed she would betray him, his sons Rhaegar and Viserys were killed as well when they tried to intervene, but his daughter Daenerys lived.

She fled from her mad father and did not return. She was merely a girl of seven but that was ten years ago and now the Lannisters are looking for her.”

“Why are they looking for her? What does that have to do with anything?” Sansa asked and frowned. It didn’t make much sense.

“The Lannisters are afraid. They believe that the Targaryen girl could somehow take their power by turning the common people, like us, against them. Of course, they do not tell us that. They lie and say that it is only a matter of time before the madness that runs in the Targaryen family comes to possess the girl completely. But no one has been able to catch the girl, despite the many sightings of her.”

 “Do you think she can truly take their power? Is she a threat to us too?” Sansa asked and Petyr chuckled at her question.

“No, because she is dead.” He simply answered and she frowned.

“But you just said-“

“She _did_ flee from her father, but she was killed by a dragon three years ago when she tried to befriend it. It seems that the madness really did run in the family.”

“But why are the Lannisters still looking for her then?”

“The men who found the remains of the girl just so happened to be working for me and I do not let valuable information slip. While the Lannisters are distracted searching after a nonexistent girl, we can weave ourselves into their stone walls and break them from the inside.

However, the part that I did not anticipate was that Tywin would be desperate enough to release the dementors in search of the Targaryen. To my regret, that affected you.” His voice dropped and his eyes softened just the slightest as he looked at her.

“But… How can Tywin just do that? Fudge said he didn’t know why the dementor was released, _you_ said you didn’t know.” She argued, not necessarily with anger but more with a questioning sadness. Had he lied about that? Had she believed it so easily?

“I _didn’t_ know, not until after your second attack. Then I merely thought it would be best to keep you unknowing. You must admit, sweetling, it would have been foolish of me to tell you so soon.” She huffed in both frustration and defeat. She knew he was right. When wasn’t he right?

“And Fudge, well, he doesn’t know much about anything that happens in the ministry nowadays. The influence of the councilmembers is far too great.”

“I know. Votes doesn’t matter much when the council has paid everyone in the court and control them like puppets.” She muttered and clenched her jaw. She still dwelled over it sometimes, how her family could all be alive if the ministry wasn’t so corrupt.

“You learn quickly.” Petyr sighed and she could see the faintest smirk on his lips. Like he was proud of her. “I tried to give Fudge a reason to be suspicious of Tywin but he did not seem to catch the hint, not that it matters much now. They will both be swept off the board in time.”

“How?” She asked but felt like she already knew the answer.

“They will both have to die.” He murmured and studied her reaction thoroughly, perhaps looking for doubt. But to her own surprise, she didn’t care that both Tywin and Fudge would die. She didn’t care that any of the others would die either. Perhaps that made her terribly greedy for power and perhaps it was awfully immoral, but she still did not care. _Let them die._ She thought. _Let them waste away to nothing._

“What am I supposed to do with all of this information?  I don’t want to sit by and watch as you get to do all the scheming.” She said and he chuckled at her comment.

“You have ties with the youngest Tyrell. I simply want you to sew distrust between the Lannisters and her, can you do that?” she nodded, although with a bit of hesitation. _Can I do this? Yes, of course, I have to._ “Good. Also, I assume you are aware that Cersei held no love whatsoever for her late husband Robert Baratheon?”

She nodded again. Robert had died a little over four years ago and Sansa had not seen Cersei, nor anyone else of the Lannister household, grieve when she had visited to meet Joffrey. Robert had been a drunk and no one except for Sansa’s father held any great love for him.

“Tell me, do you know how _pureblooded_ the Lannister children truly are?” he asked and she frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand.” She muttered and Petyr raised his eyebrow in amusement.

“Jaime and Cersei have a bit more than just a brother-sister relationship.” Sansa shook her head, still not truly understanding the point, or perhaps she just suppressed it.

“They’re fucking, sweetling.” He finally said and she could not hide her disgust. He laughed as she cringed, seeing a picture in her head along with the noises she had sometimes heard late in the night at the Lannister home. She had never _exactly_ known what that banging noise was, but now she realized that it must be a table or something that they were fucking on and it simply banged against the wall.

“But, they’re brother and sister. It’s _repulsing.”_ she exclaimed and Petyr hummed in agreement.  “I don’t even want to think about it…” she fought back a gag and took a deep breath, erasing the awful image in her head.

“Indeed, it is repulsing, but they do practically anything to keep their bloodline pure.” Petyr said and Sansa now also realized that it meant all the three Lannister children were bastards of incest. She cringed again and pulled her fingers through her hair, trying to avoid getting sick.

“And? Why do I have to know this…” she struggled for the right word, only coming up with terrible ones. “Information.” She settled with and looked at Petyr again, more composed now. He smirked devilishly and fingered with a silver ring around his index.

“Wouldn’t it just be terrible if this would become public knowledge? But who could possibly get proof of this?” he said and she shook her head in refusal.

“No, Petyr… Gods, I don’t want to see that!”

“You know I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important. I can’t send one of my men there, they make all their new staff take truth serum to reveal their intentions. Only you can get in without doing that.” She knew that he was right and she sighed heavily in reluctant acceptance.

“The things I do for you…” she whispered under her breath, mostly to herself but she was sure he heard. His smirk widened in victory and his tongue slipped out to wet his lower lip, making her somewhat distracted for a second.

“You said we would rule.” She changed the subject. “How are we supposed to do that? Will you try to become minister?”

“Oh no, the wizarding world will realize how terribly inconvenient and devastating it can be to rely on the ministry. We must let the council fight a war amongst themselves, break the system apart. When nothing but ashes remains we will rise with a new system, a new way to rule, and the people will approve of us as there is no other choice.  Tell me sweetling, would you like to be Queen?”

She didn’t know what to answer to that and her mouth hung open slightly in shock. Queen? Was that even possible in today’s world? She didn’t know, it seemed impossible and she should do best to _not_ strive after such a title, and yet…

“Will you be King then?” she murmured and his pleased expression told her everything she needed to know.

“What else would I be?”

-

Scene inspiration (Starts at 04:10)

 

*I do not own this video, all rights to the respective owner

 

 **DON'T FORGET TO VOTE FOR PETYR AND SANSA AT THE GoT PARTY!** Sadly, I can't provide a link but here is the address; http://www.thegotparty.com/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was quite a lot to take in, wasn't it?  
> "too many loose ends." - basically my thoughts on this entire plot but I think I've managed to clean it up lol  
> I was a bit unsure with both the beginning and end of this chapter but I hope it was okay.
> 
> Snape's dialogue was quite difficult to write because I'm not super familiar with his character, what did you think?
> 
> Please comments and tell me your thoughts! <3
> 
> Also, find me on Tumblr, I follow PxS blogs back; arianassunflower


	26. the Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! I'm sooo sorry it's been long. School is being a bitch so I'm really out of schedule. I will do my best to post weekly from now on but it might sometimes be every other week, just hold on. Deal?
> 
> Also, if you missed last chapter (where some MAJOR questions were answered) go check that out quickly before reading this!  
> I love you<3

She smiled broadly at his answer and looked down at her fidgeting hands. _I could be Queen and he could be King. Isn’t that a pretty picture?_ Her expression then changed to a frown when she saw the scabs on the side of her palm, still bleeding slightly after she had banged her hands on the stone wall in panic. Petyr was suddenly holding them gently and his eyes swept over her minor wounds with concern.

“I’m sorry.” He said and gently caressed her cuts with his smooth fingertips. She sucked in a sharp breath as the small amount of blood vanished and the cuts healed by themselves, soon revealing smooth porcelain skin with no sign of injury.

“You didn’t even use a wand.” She said, astonished, and touched her healed skin. She had only _heard_ that it was possible to do magic with no wand but she had never actually witnessed it. Petyr smiled carefully at her and yet with a mischievous look in his eyes, like always.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked. How could she stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? He clearly already knew that she had forgiven him. She drew back her hands and folded her arms over her chest, leaning back on the chair.

“Fine, but _never_ do that to me again.” She played coy but was scolding him at the same time. He nodded in agreement, not that she expected him to refuse her command. She knew he did not want her to hurt, not now, not ever. It hadn't been his intention for her to suffer.

“I have more questions.” She mumbled after no words had been spoken for a time. Petyr's eyes were soft and his smirk somehow more affectionate, like he was admiring her after the long silence. She felt her cheeks heat when he looked at her like that, despite the fact that she had been in situations far more intimate with him.

She sighed, compelled to be closer, and walked over to him, placing herself in his lap with her legs swinging to the side and her arms wrapped around his neck. He seemed far too pleased with this move and she had to reject him just a little bit.

 “I will _not_ be distracted. Not even by your kisses.” She said, her eyes darting to his lips for a split second as his arm slipped around her waist to pull her just a tad closer.

“Very well, I’m all ears.” He said with a smirk, for sure knowing how tempted she was. Gods, he was far too smug for his own good…

“You said that Tywin was still looking for the Targaryen girl. Does that mean I am at a risk to be attacked again?”

“Sadly, yes.” Petyr said and he frowned slightly in concern, making her anxious.

“Do you think I can fight a real dementor?”

“It’s hard to say, but you did manage to cast a full corporeal patronus rather quickly. Besides, I will do my very best to keep you safe.” He gripped her waist protectively and stroked her cheek with nimble fingers. She relaxed to his touch and smiled gently at him in assurance. If she could, she would melt and forever be molded with him. Forever in his protection and warmth. Perhaps he felt the same.

“Do you think I could… try to fight one?” she said hesitantly and his jaw instantly tensed at her question.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“But why? You have one in captivity. Surely it could-“

“It’s not a dementor Sansa.” He interrupted softly and she stared at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? What is it then?”

“It’s a boggart.” He did not offer any further explanation and her stare was not enough to press him.

“And? What does it do? Why did you tell me it was a dementor?” Petyr sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair in a quick motion. _Does he do that often?_

“A boggart is a dark creature that takes on the shape of your worst fear. I predicted that it might take the shape of a dementor when you eventually faced it but after what happened with Ramsay… I’m not so sure anymore.”

She released a breath and rested her head on his shoulder, nestling her face by the crook of his neck. She didn’t understand what the point of having a boggart was if she would not be allowed to face it. She didn't understand the big deal.

“I’m not afraid of Ramsay.” She mumbled and breathed in his distinct scent, warming her to the core in more ways than one. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she was afraid or not, but perhaps if she told herself that Ramsay held no power over her, it could come true. Petyr did not answer to her statement and she assumed that he did not believe her words.

“I’m not afraid of Ramsay.” She repeated, demanding Petyr to answer, to say _something,_ but also to convince herself that it truly was so. She would destroy Ramsay, and Myranda. They would not frighten her anymore. She wouldn’t allow it.

“I won’t take the risk.” Petyr finally said and she felt forced to straighten up and look him in the eyes. There was pain in the smoke green gaze of his, like he was physically hurt by the fact that Sansa had suffered. But it wasn’t his fault, he _knew_ that surely.

Sansa was confused, _concerned,_ by that look he gave her. Could he not see? Could he not let her face her fears and defeat them? Would it not do them both good if she could be stronger?

“What risk? There’s no risk, I can do it. It’s just a boggart and if-” She said but he shook his head and stood up abruptly, making her stop her argument. She would’ve fallen to the floor if he had not pulled her to her feet as he rose. He looked deeply into her eyes with an expression she did not recognize and did not understand.

His hands were on her waist, gripping with a demand for attention, and all she could do was stand still and wait for him to speak.

“I will not argue about this, Sansa.” He said low and that was it. No _sweetling,_ no soft words, no _explanation._ It was like he was scolding a child for misbehaving. He released his grip on her and turned around, about to walk away, but she quickly grabbed his elbow and forced him back to at look her.

“Don’t just leave!” she hadn’t meant to sound so harsh but she found that it worked to get his attention, although, he seemed awfully frustrated with her persistence. “You said you would teach me! I have to be able to protect myself. I didn’t know _what to do_ in the shrieking shack, or on the quidditch game. I couldn’t do _anything_  to fight and _you weren’t there!_ How do I know you will be there next time? If you’re not, how will I protect myself?”

Petyr stepped towards her and held her face in his hands, both with force and with care. His eyes seemed to search for something in hers but she did not know what. He looked disheveled, tired, not like himself and she did not understand his behavior or his reasoning.

“ _There will be no next time.”_ He almost growled and stared at her with fire in his eyes. She had never seen him this way before. _Never._ But his expression softened quickly and he closed his eyes with a sigh before releasing his grip on her completely. He turned away and walked to the door that opened in the wall, and this time, she let him go.

-

She slept long into the day, not bothering to go to any of her classes. Her mind refused to focus and sleep was the only thing that seemed to help soothe her. Eventually she forced herself to get up from the bed and by that time it was already 4pm. She did not dress in her uniform and instead opted for a sweater and jeans before leaving the sleeping dorm and settling in the common room that was empty at this time of day.

She couldn’t wrap her head around Petyr’s behavior last night. In truth, it was difficult to wrap her head around _anything_ that happened last night. First of all; _Snape._

It irked her in some ways how Snape had noticed Petyr looking at her but he had not once seen or heard the cruel things Joffrey threatened her with. _He doesn’t care. All he cares about is about some stupid rivalry with Petyr._ She caught herself scowling at nothing and rubbed the tense expression off her face with her palms before slouching down in a green velvet couch.

A table was beside her and a set of chess was placed out neatly. She picked up the King from the board and studied its features with both sight and touch. It was made of heavy wood and black paint covered the carved details, completing the exquisite piece. She came to think about Petyr’s plans; _Monarchy in the wizarding world?_ The idea was so insane that it might just work. But she somehow doubted she could be a part of it now.

Petyr did not even trust her enough to allow her to fight the boggart. How could he ever trust her to become a Queen, let alone _his_ Queen? In chess, the Queen has the King’s back, always protecting and defending. She could not do that if he did not allow it. Was she a disappointment to him?

She dropped the delicately carved piece to the floor and sighed heavily. Was it over now? Would Petyr realize that he was perhaps better on his own? Gods, she hoped not. Without him, she had no hope, no purpose anymore. He had planted the idea of revenge in her and now it had grown to a garden in her mind.  She could not let it go.

But a part of her also felt that Petyr could not let it go either, could he? He must still want her by his side, if not he would’ve made sure she was expelled or perhaps worse. He _could_ do that in a split second but he hadn’t. That meant much to her, but despite her love for him, she couldn’t stop being frustrated with him.

What is the worst that could happen to her if she was allowed to face her fears? He hadn’t even bothered to explain.

The door suddenly swung open and several students walked in, all Slytherin of course. Jeyne was among them and as soon as she spotted Sansa on the couch she skipped up to her with steps far too jolly for Sansa’s mood.

“How are you feeling? Better? Anyways, professor Baelish told me to give you this. Apparently it’s from madam Pomfrey.” It was typical of Jeyne to give no room for an answer. She always had so many things to say that she did not have time to listen. Jeyne handed a small leather bag to Sansa and she took it carefully, a not entirely faked smile on her lips.

“Thanks.” She muttered but Jeyne was already moving back towards the group of people she had entered with. Sansa fumbled with the bag for a while, contemplating on whether or not she should open it so publically. What is Petyr had written a note? No one could be allowed to see that. She walked back to the sleeping dorm and flopped down on her bed, no one else in the room with her yet.

She emptied out the bag in front of her and recognized the herbs that she had been given before from madam Pomfrey. Disappointment hit her for a second when she did not see anything special from Petyr, but then she noticed a small clear bag with blue powder inside. She did not recognize _that_ and she was sure it was not from madam Pomfrey.

She read the small note that was attached to it and a strange mixture of happiness and anger filled her. “ _Trust me”_ the note said, proving to her at least that Petyr still cared for her and had perhaps not given up like a part of her feared. But it was also far too vague for her liking. He should apologize to her, he should explain himself and not just tell her to “ _trust him”._ She already did trust him anyhow.

Despite her annoyance, she headed to the kitchen of the commonroom and brewed the herbs into a tea. She brought the steaming liquid to her mouth, gently blowing the surface to avoid getting burned. It smelled bitter, like the peel of an orange, but as she sipped it tasted the opposite. The tea was sweet and sugary, not too bad in her opinion.

She did not know why Petyr had sent her this but for whatever the reason it must be somewhat important. _It’s not poison, is it?_ She shook her head and took another sip. She felt ashamed for even thinking that. Petyr wouldn’t hurt her, _ever._ Gods, perhaps _she_ was the one who had overreacted? She couldn’t stay mad at him now, she just couldn’t.

The ache to go look for him started to spread through her body but she knew it had to wait. She was _not_ planning on getting caught in Snape's claws again. That had been an awful experience. Petyr would have to seek _her_ out. He always knew how to move unnoticed and without suspicion. She could only hope he would come to her soon. It was unbearable to be away from him on bad terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, I'm aware, but it felt good to end it here bc there will be a time jump next.
> 
> Thoughts on this wild chapter? Petyr's reaction wow... The mysterious tea (that I'm sure some of y'all know what it is)... Boggart (hilarious word btw)...  
> I'm completely aware that he is sooo out of character here but I promise it'll make sense later ;)
> 
> Tumblr: arianassunflower
> 
> Please comment and let me know your thoughts?


	27. the Bathroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter yet again wooo! I do hope you like this my loves, it's longer than usual :)

Anger. Anger was what she felt once again. It had been two weeks since she had last spoken to Petyr, and two weeks since she had last gone to his classes. She wondered if he would give her a bad grade because of her absence. Maybe, because he hadn’t seemed very interested in her at all recently.

Sure, she _could_ have gone to his class and then they could speak after it but there were two problems. First of all, Snape was far too suspicious for her to be able to stay after class and go by unnoticed. Second of all, despite what Sansa told herself, she was still afraid of Myranda, and Ramsay for that matter…

They were not her greatest fear, at least it didn’t feel that way, but it was too soon to face any of them again. She couldn’t do that, not now, not without defense against their stinging gazes and cruel words.

She had waited patiently for Petyr to seek her out, and he had done nothing. The feeling of his watchful eyes on her was often there but she had never managed to actually catch him observing her. Whenever she would turn to look at him his eyes were occupied with other things.

 _Why?_ She asked herself several times. _Why_ hadn’t he done anything? Plenty of opportunities had come his way but he had not taken any of them. He wanted to see her, she was sure of it. She _felt_ it. Like the way you feel gravity pull you down she could feel his attention being drawn to her, but he had not acted upon it.

Did he think she needed space? Did he truly think she could be mad about their argument for so long? If he did, he was an idiot. Now she was mad over the fact that he did not do what he was supposed to. _Talk to me! Hug me, kiss me, do whatever you want just do it with me!_ She wanted to scream it so he would understand that she needed him with her.

The pebble she kicked hit a tree in the courtyard as she walked into the castle to her next class. She had scolded Petyr so many times in her head now that she was sure she would have nothing to say when they eventually talked. _If we ever talk._ She thought grumpily.

Although a raging anger burned inside her she couldn’t help but feel another kind of heat. It was an aching for intimate touch, for his touch. Warm pulsating waves of need hit her between her legs at the most unexpected of times and it was frustrating that not even her body could resist missing him. If he ever sought her out and they had the chance to be alone, would she rip his clothes off first or would she yell her anger out? All she could do was wait she supposed.

The students walked into the classroom with sighs, knowing full well that professor Snape was not often pleasant in the afternoons. It seemed that his mood worsened for every second he had to spend teaching and yet he had never thought of getting another job. Maybe because working at Hogwarts was considered and honor, and it was difficult to get to any better. _But not for Petyr_. _He can get anything he wants._

She sat down in the back, not wanting any extra attention from Snape today. He had questioned her after their encounter in the night it had been unbearably frustrating to be so thoroughly interrogated. He had been skeptical about every single one of her answers but had eventually let her go, reluctantly of course. After that, he had merely given her a hard time in class and cast icy looks that unnerved her.

Snape cleared his throat and the little chatter that was going on quickly dulled down to complete silence. Snape’s power over the students was different than Petyr’s. Snape was always harsh, making everyone tense until his class was over, whereas Petyr gave them a sense of relaxation before he snapped them back into the cruel reality if it was needed.

“If you were here last time you should know-“Snape began in his deep voice but the door flew open before he had the time to finish the sentence. Everyone’s head turned back and Snape scowled at the intruder. Sansa turned back as well and her fists clenched when she saw that Joffrey was the one who had entered. _He isn’t supposed to be here._ She thought and scowled at him unconsciously, similarly to what Snape was doing.

“Mr. Baratheon, you’re late.” Snape said and Sansa’s head snapped back to the professor. _What? No, he doesn’t take this class. I chose this class to avoid him!_ She wanted to protest but she knew it would only get her in trouble later.

“Forgive me professor, but I was held up. My mother had to speak to me for longer than I anticipated.” Joffrey said in a sickeningly faked humble tone and Snape did not seem amused by the poorly concealed arrogance.

 _Mother?_ Sansa thought and slowly let her gaze travel back to the cruel blonde. His blazing green eyes were already on her and his smile was twisted into a sneer. Her jaw clenched involuntarily as he stepped toward her slowly, ignoring the professor altogether now.

“Oh, and Sansa? Mother wishes to speak to you as well.” He said and grabbed her chin. She knew she could no nothing at this point, it would only anger him if she jerked away from his touch, and gods she wanted to. He was repulsive to her.

Her skin crawled as his thumb massaged the side of her face but she dared not show any discomfort. Instead she forced herself to wear a slight smile, like she cared for him as a brother and appreciated his _soothing_ touch. She could tell that he _almost_ wanted her to break her act and slap his hand away, only so he could punish her later. But she did not break. She knew not to.

It was strange how quickly she stepped into her submissive role, obeying him once again despite her promise to herself that she would be stronger. _But I am strong. I’m defying him behind his back. This is just another mask I have to wear._

“Now?” she asked in a small voice, forcing it not to tremble. Snape cleared his throat, probably urging Joffrey to sit down so the class could start again, but his green eyes did not flinch. And neither did her blue. She knew he wanted complete control and she had to give him what he wanted for as long as he wanted it.

“Yes.” He said and leaned forward, placing a cold and wet kiss on her cheek before releasing her with a slight push of his fingers. She stood up swiftly to conceal the repulsed motion she had accidently made. With a quick nod towards both Joffrey and Snape she headed out as quickly as possible, leaving her meaningless books behind.

The door slammed shut behind her and she wiped his saliva off her cheek with disgust. The fact that he had been so close to her was sickening and she could feel her stomach churn at the lingering touch. It had been months since he had last done that to her; _kissed her._ Before it had been on her lips though and she supposed the cheek was better.

 _He only did it to unnerve me._ She thought and moved towards the Gryffindor Tower. Cersei was always there the few times she visited, perhaps she relived happy memories within those specific stone walls, decorated with red and gold banners. The walk was shorter than Sansa would have liked, it would be better if she had gotten more time to prepare herself for an interrogation but the painting of the fat lady was already moving out of the way as she approached before she had even uttered a single word.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside, just wanting to get over with it. Cersei stood by the window wearing a red dress with golden details to match her blonde hair. The colors of Gryffindor, clearly chosen specifically to emit a sense of power. Cersei turned around and Sansa was not the least bit surprised to see her holding a cup of wine in her ringed hand.

“Little dove, how lovely to see you. Come.” Cersei said with a twisted smile and held out her arm in invitation. Sansa bowed her head, knowing her place with the lioness, and carefully walked over to the window. Cersei’s hand briefly skimmed over the small of Sansa’s back as she stood to look out from the high tower. Students moved around in the courtyard, looking like ants from so far up. Perhaps that was why Cersei liked this tower so much? Here she was high above them all.

“I hear you’ve had an accident.” Cersei said and sipped her wine, now avoiding touch altogether.

“It is true.” Was all that Sansa could answer. She knew what Cersei meant. It was nothing new that people avoided mentioning Harry and the attack. If they had to speak about it they used words like _incident_ or _accident._

“Well, not much harm was done.” Sansa suppressed a spiteful laugh as Cersei spoke. Of course she tried to make it sound like Sansa had only suffered a paper cut. Cersei was always trying to press her down, push her into the dirt with her words.

“Why did you want to speak to me?” Sansa said after a short while of silence, frustration building up inside of her. What did she want? Why was she even here? Cersei sipped her wine again and sighed.

“Your grades are dropping _and_ I’ve heard rumors about your bad behavior. Is it true that you’ve adopted your sister’s ways?” Cersei could have made it sound more pleasant, more motherly, but she did not. Sansa guessed that Cersei wanted to be rude only for the sake of being rude. Or did she think it made her sound powerful? Probably both.

“I’m afraid my mind has been on other things and not my schoolwork.” Sansa began her half-lie, half-truth. It was only vague enough for Cersei to perhaps accept her words. “It has not been my meaning to be difficult, it’s only… I don’t believe some of the professors like me...”

“Professor Baelish?” Cersei said. It took a few seconds before Sansa worked out that Cersei must’ve heard the tales of Petyr’s classes.

“Yes. I don’t think he likes anyone.”

“Do you like him then?” Sansa froze and swallowed thickly, slightly shocked by Cersei’s question. But Cersei couldn’t possibly know about _them._ She glanced up and was met with burning green eyes, just like Joffrey’s, but despite the flames in her gaze, the feeling Sansa got was cold. Cersei had that effect, as all the Lannisters did.

When Sansa didn’t answer directly, too distracted by the green, Cersei scoffed and sipped her wine while turning her eyes away.

“Well, it wouldn’t matter to me if you did. I’m sure you can trust him.” Sansa caught herself and shook the stiffness out her body, letting the lies pour out from her mouth.

“I don’t like him. He’s awfully mean to me, I don’t even go to his classes anymore.” She mumbled and fidgeted with her sleeve. It wasn’t completely an act. But why would Cersei _want_ Sansa to trust Petyr? What was her gain in that?

 _What if I’ve been played by them both all along?_ She stopped herself from going any further into that thought. Hadn’t Petyr already proved his loyalty to her? Gods, she would be dead if he wasn’t loyal to her, if he didn’t _love_ her. He did love her then, didn’t he? But why was he ignoring her?

“I see.” Cersei sighted and put her now empty cup down on the windowsill. She turned to Sansa with a sharp turn and a stony look on her face. “But you will do your duty. Stop with your arrogance, show some respect for the teachers and they might just let you stay in their good graces. I want no filth dragged on my name because of your little rebellion. Your sister is enough trouble. See yourself out.”

Cersei’s look of disgust was prominent of her ever-displeased looking face. Sansa sucked in a breath and bowed her head slightly before hurrying out to avoid any wrath that might come from the wretched woman.  The door closed behind her with a slam and the Fat Lady in the painting snorted, causing Sansa to turn around and look at her. She had the same look of disgust as Cersei deeply rooted into her features.

“Got the scolding you deserved.” She muttered and strutted deeper into the painted gardens, her large hips swaying overdramatically. Sansa wasn’t surprised to realize that almost the entirety of Gryffindor Tower was Lannister controlled. Well, not exactly controlled, but they had power. The paintings listened to them, whispered to them, and liked no one but them. Even Arya hated the Fat Lady.

 People often judged Slytherins for being _“obsessed”_ with having pure blood but Sansa knew that almost no one cared about that. It was the Lannisters who did that, in more ways than one according to Petyr. She shivered at the thought of their incest and let her feet carry her quickly away.

She decided not to return to potions class. Joffrey would be there and she did not want to be around him any longer than she already had. She wiped her cheek again, despite her skin being dry and already free from his slick saliva. She felt filthy after being so near him again, after being _touched_ by him again.

Her skin crawled and she had to stop for a second, only to steady her breathing. She leaned against the railing of the stairs when it started to move to the side. It rumbled loudly as the stones shifted but soon enough it came to a halt and she continued going up. The grand staircase was terribly inconvenient at times when they moved but it had worked out strangely in her favor this time.

The fifth floor was mostly empty of students at this time of the day. The few that were on this floor were now scurrying off to their classes or back to their common rooms to do anything but schoolwork. Sansa stopped by the statue of Boris the Bewildered and looked around quickly to see if anyone was near.

She wasn’t supposed to do this, she knew very well that it would do her no good if she was caught, but in some aspects she didn’t care.

“Fortuna Major.” She whispered and the secret door opened. She shouldn’t know the password. This bathroom was reserved for Head Boys, Head Girls, quidditch captains and prefect’s. _“Normal”_ students wasn’t allowed entry but Arya, the rebellious girl she was, had eavesdropped on the latest meeting and memorized the password.

She had then told Sansa, in return for a Galleon of course. Arya never worked for free and perhaps that was a good thing.  That way she would never be broke.

The door closed as Sansa walked in and she quickly laid a locking charm on it. Of course, someone could still come in if they used a counter charm but she would at least hear them struggling with the lock before they entered.

She looked around the large room, amazed by the beauty of it. She had never been there before, unlike Arya who had visited several times since learning the password. The floor was made of white marble, as was the walls and the grand pillars along the sides. A stained glass window depicting a mermaid covered part of the wall between two large mirrors that was reflecting the light in the room.

In the middle was the grand tub, or more like pool in this case, given its size. It was sunken down into the ground with three golden taps along its marble edge. Surely fifteen people would fit in there and there would still be room for more.

Deciding she was done admiring the room, Sansa started all three of the taps and stripped down. She folded her clothes neatly and placed them by a pillar before sinking down, fully nude, into the tub. She realized that some sort of charm must be the cause of how quickly it was filled. It was already just over her chest as she sat down and turned off the taps.

White foam covered the surface, shielding her body from sight, not that anyone was looking. Only the mermaid in glass but she only cast a quick glance before turning her back to Sansa, giving her some needed privacy. Besides, the mermaid couldn’t speak according to Arya so no gossiping. _“I would’ve been caught a long time ago if she could talk.”_ Arya had stated.

Sansa sighed and sank further down into the steaming water, letting it kiss over her collarbones, her shoulders, the nape of her neck. It cleansed her of Joffrey’s lingering touch until she felt nothing but warm numbness.  She took a deep breath and dunked her head underwater, staying in the heat for as long as her lungs could bear.

The water surged its way into her ears, making her hear nothing but a sweet buzzing sound.  She liked that. It was like even the cruel words spoken by Joffrey, by Cersei, were wiped away. She opened her eyes carefully and saw how light shone through the surface and glimmered underneath in the same color of the golden taps.  It was beautiful, peaceful, so different from her own chaotic life. Perhaps she should stay here in the quiet water forever, only float around carelessly. But she couldn’t do that, and perhaps she didn’t even want that. No, she wanted so much more than numbness.

Her lungs were starting to protest against the lack of air and she broke through the surface, gasping in the fresh cool air. She rubbed the water from her face, removing every last bit of Joffrey’s kiss. She spotted her reflection in the mirror in front of her and sighed. She felt better and to her relief, she looked better as well. It did her good to remove a layer of pain and dread. She leaned her head back on the marble edge, letting only her body soak.

Her mind traveled freely in the darkness behind her closed lids and went straight to Petyr, despite her efforts to steer them in another way. Gods, she wanted him. It was so terribly confusing that she was angry with him and yet it stirred between her legs at the thought of a kiss, a mere taste of his lips.

She pressed her thighs together, hoping for some relief but to no avail. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth to stop a whimper of frustration from escaping. But then, after a time of writhing around, she sighed and gave up fighting her need.

She allowed her hand to travel downwards over her nude body and down to her core that ached for touch so badly. Her finger pressed against her clit slowly, feeling her slick arousal already coating her. She hissed at the touch but it then turned into a soft moan. Oh, it felt good to finally feel such pleasures. She had never touched herself before, well, maybe once or twice, but never like this. Never so sinfully open and never while thinking of someone while doing it.

It started in slow circular motions as she tried to get the hang of it. She tried to recall what Petyr had done whenever he touched her in her sacred place, how his tongue had moved when he had kissed her there. The image of him fueled her lust and she picked up a faster pace, feeling her body stiffening and her legs twitching.

She whimpered out a moan, trying to get over the edge but it felt too far away. She needed more but she did not know in what way. She intensified the pressure and changed motion, going up and down over her clit. Her toes curled at the pleasure and her core pulsated, desperate to reach a release.

Gods, she was almost there, only a little further. Her pants and whimpers quickened and her legs trembled as she chased the brink of pleasure.

“I’m jealous.” Her eyes snapped open as she jolted up in shock from the sudden voice. Petyr’s eyes met hers in the mirror and she quickly retreated her hand from between her legs, unsatisfied and pulsating with need.

She could only stare back at him as he walked closer, not once breaking her gaze in the reflection. He had discarded his cloak and had one hand in the pocket of his slacks. Gods, he was so devilishly handsome and she cursed herself for being so easily affected.

“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to choke out and she was not surprised when he chuckled at her question. He licked the inside of his teeth, smirking as he did so.

“The better question is; what are _you_ doing here?” It infuriated her how he turned it around, asking her the same question.

“Stop that.” She said and turned around, abandoning his reflection and instead settling her eyes on his real form. The water splashed around her as she moved and some almost gushed over the edge. He chuckled at her light scolding and started to unbutton his black shirt. She looked at his nimble fingers as they worked downwards, revealing his scarred chest one button at a time.

She took a long good look at the pale patterns that covered his skin, the frozen lightning striking down over his perfectly lean body. Was he still self-conscious about it? When she met his eyes again she did catch a glimpse of hesitation, of caution, but it was quickly diminished by lustful darkness. His gaze dropped to her chest and she came to the realization that the foam that she had so neatly covered herself with had floated away, revealing her small perky breasts.

She quickly placed her arms in front of her in unneeded embarrassment, failing to make the move look natural. Petyr chuckled and dropped his shirt, the buttons making a click noise as they hit the marble floor. He strode forward with sure steps and smirked wickedly, making it quite clear what was going on in his mind.

“Mind if I finish what you started?” he said and stopped by the edge, right above her, and opened the first button of his slacks. She sighed and turned her gaze away, blushing profusely.

“Petyr…” she began, a soft complaint of his advances, and the sound of another garment hitting the floor reached her ears. The water rippled around her as he stepped in and is arms quickly enveloped her body. He kissed her hungrily on the lips, like he had not been given any food in days, and the cool mint chilled her lungs. “Petyr, we should-” she pulled back to gasp but his lips demolished her words. _We should talk, I’m so angry with you…_

Oh, but he was so distracting and she felt such a throbbing need for him. She moaned into his mouth and reached down to cover his length with her smooth fingers, still slick from her own arousal. He growled low in his throat and bucked against her, pushing her against the hard edge. She didn’t mind the force, in fact, she relished in it. _Not numb. Not with him._

She grinded against his leg while slowly stroking him, feeling his cock grow harder and harder. His hand soon traveled down in between their bodies as well and his fingers found her throbbing clit. She gasped and grasped the short hairs by the nape of his neck with her unoccupied hand. She was still sensitive from her own pleasuring but it felt so good only because _he_ was the one touching her.

He teased her slowly and she whined with frustration. “No, Petyr-“ she gasped and he slowed down his movements, hesitation overcoming him suddenly, but she wasn’t finished with her words. “Just fuck me.”

He released a low guttural sound and quickly reached up, his arms around her and pulling her hair so her neck could be exposed to him. He kissed her feverishly and lined up at her entrance. Her legs wrapping around him instinctively and he held her up with almost no effort in the water. She whined, needing so desperately to be filled and he obeyed her unspoken request. He plunged into her to the very hilt and suckled her neck in between his heavy breaths.

A sharp pain stung inside her, just like last time, but it diminished so much quicker now. Her cry became a moan, urging him on. He picked up a pace with no more encouragement needed. It was not slow or gentle, it was rough and hard, just what she needed at this point. She was still angry with him, even as intense desire held her at an iron grip. The aggression was somewhat let out with their sex.

She pulled her hair free from his hands, tilted her head forward and nipped at his earlobe as he pumped into her hard, grunting lustfully with each thrust. Each time he pulled back she felt empty but he always came back to give her the pleasure of being whole again. She clawed at his back and her toes were curling as she got closer to her orgasm.

She held onto him as hard as she could, wanting him closer and closer. Her legs were tightly wrapped around his hips as sweet ecstasy overcome her. She crashed around him like the water’s waves crashed over the marble edge of the tub. With one last thrust he found his release as well, warming her inside with his seed.

They stayed entwined as one, slowly regaining the ability to move. She forced her legs to let go of his body and she stood up shakily, whimpering as he slipped out of her. The soreness that she felt was a good feeling, it reminded her of how sweetly he had taken her the first time. But the slow clearing in her head was perhaps an even better feeling for her. Her mind had an easier time to focus now that the overwhelming desire wasn’t like a thick fog laying before her eyes.

She sat down, the water covering her shoulders again. It felt colder than before, or perhaps their bodies were just warmer.  Petyr followed her down instantly, still breathing heavily with exhaustion, and wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. They both had almost overexerted themselves completely but Sansa had not forgotten what her mission was despite her tiredness.

“If you must know, Arya gave me the password.” She murmured softly and rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his ribs. “Joffrey was in my potions class so I came in here to avoid him. I didn’t exactly feel like being tormented.” It was silent for a time.

“Did he hurt you?” Petyr finally said, his voice was a low threatening rasp and his body was rigid as if set in stone. She pondered over her answer for a short while, closing her eyes as she sighed.

“Not physically.” She decided on answering. He held her closer and his hands gripped her possessively. She could feel as he nestled his face in her hair and hear as he breathed in her scent sharply.

“He won’t get near you again. I won’t allow that.” He growled and she pressed closer to him unconsciously.

“You can’t promise that.” She whispered and opened her eyes again. Petyr’s heart was beating hard in his chest and she could clearly feel the steady thumps. She wondered if it was because of Joffrey or because of their recent sex. “Cersei spoke to me as well. I just met her in the Gryffindor Tower.”

“I know.” Petyr hummed and she couldn’t help the frown that appeared on her face. She fought back a scoff. _Of course Petyr knows Cersei spoke to me. He knows everything and yet he doesn’t tell me even half of it._ “What did she want?” he then asked.

“In truth, I’m not sure. But she spoke about my grades, told me I had to better myself.” She breathed in deeply and her jaw clenched. “She also wanted me to trust you. Do you have any knowledge of why she would say such a thing?” Petyr swallowed but then she felt him chuckle softly.

“I’m the bird that whispers in her ear, sweetling. She believes everything I tell her. She is hoping that you will entrust me with whatever secrets she thinks you have, only so I can tell her about them.” She knew what Petyr told her made perfect sense but it did not make her any less cross with him.

“And what have you told her about me so far?” she muttered.

 “I’ve told her that you do not attend to most classes, getting more like your sister in that aspect. You are rude in the few moments you _do_ attend _,_ in _my_ classes especially.” He chuckled again and she knew he was pleased that their little game was working and spreading rumors effectively. She did not join his amusement.

“I have also given her some insight on the Tyrells, she is terribly worried that they will try to overthrow her family. There wasn’t much else to say to her after that, although, I’ll be weaving in some lies with my future reports. I’m sure you’re aware of what I’m doing.” She could almost sense the smirk he wore. All proud and smug. She hoped it dropped as she spoke.

“No.”

“What do you mean _no_?” She felt his heart skip a beat and he twisted his body to look down at her.

“I mean _no_ , I’m _not_ aware of what you’re doing.” She exclaimed and straightened up, although, still staying close to him with her hand against his chest. His heartbeat was a nice indicator of his emotions, or at least stress. She met his eyes and saw how they were narrowed in slight confusion.

“Petyr, you haven’t spoken to me in _two weeks._ How am I supposed to know _any of this_ when you don’t talk to me?” She had meant to sound angry but it came out more sad, hurt. “I needed you. I thought you would come to me but you didn’t.” she choked out and felt tears burning in her eyes but not falling down her cheeks. It wasn’t even enough to make her vision blurry, it was dry tears, like she had cried too much in the past to do so now.

He frowned slightly and shook his head before reaching up to cup her jaw with one hand.  “It was not my intention to abandon you so, you must believe me. It was only needed for our plans to go by with less suspicion. Surely you can see that?” He rasped low.

“But you could have _told me.”_ She whispered. His whole demeanor changed and the realization seemed to hit him fully now, along with regret. For some reason, she hated that. She hated that he had not thought about her part in this. “Did it ever once occur to you that _I_ might have some insight?”

“Sansa…” he brought his other hand up to her face to hold her firmly, but nor forcefully. “I _know_ you have the abilities. I _know_ how much you want to see the downfall of those who have wronged you.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, almost as if in defeat. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark sweetling.” He kissed her softly. She _should_ accept his apology, but it wasn’t enough.

“But _why?_ Why won’t you let me be a bigger part of this?” she pulled away from him and searched in his eyes for an answer, but all she saw was smoke and moss swirling around in the depths.

“I will. You must believe me when I tell you that I will.”

“When Petyr? Two weeks ago you wouldn’t even let me face the boggart! I bet you won’t let me do it now either.” She frowned at him and his face turned serious again, just like the last time she had asked.  He did not give her an answer, only looked at her sternly, and she sighed. “I knew it.”

“Sansa…” he began and she pushed herself away from him with a light and yet forceful press. He tried to grasp her but stopped when he noticed how she resisted. She hoped he saw the hurt in her eyes when he did not trust her. When he did not allow her to make her own progress.

She got out of the large tub, her mind not even caring to think of virginal embarrassment. Her clothes quickly got wet as she put them on without drying herself but she paid that no mind. It would dry sooner or later. She tugged on her blazer last, only now noticing that Petyr had put on some clothes as well. He wore his slacks again but his torso was still bare and surprisingly with no moisture to be seen on him. He quickly fastened the button above his crotch and walked closer to her, swallowing thickly.

“Sansa please.” He rasped and gently touched her elbow. She pulled away and stared into his eyes. He looked strangely hurt by her rejection and she simply couldn’t bear leaving him here without a promise. She couldn’t leave him in the dark like he had left her.

“I’ll be in your class next week…” she whispered and hurriedly walked over to the door, parting with him on bad terms once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a rollercoaster hmm? Did you spot the lines from the show I used? Maybe ;)  
> Oohh, and it's Cersei's first actual appearance. What did y'all think of her? + her vile son fucking things up again?
> 
> Please tell me you thoughts, I'd love to hear what you think!  
> -  
> ATTENTION ALL CREEPYSHIPPERS  
> I simply HAVE to mention something very important. Y'all know how there aren't a lot of us and plenty of people wants us gone from the internet, right? (lmao, never going to happen, we are eternal)  
> Well, I know the solution to your struggles as a minority in a large fandom!
> 
> PETSA LIFERAFT CHAT!
> 
> Every Sunday from noon to 9pm Pacific time (Central European time- 9pm to 6am), some of us gather on a website called Rabb.it and chat with each other! We watch PxS videos, chat about all things PxS related, speculate on s7+ theories, and most importantly; WE MAKE FRIENDS AND HAVE FUN
> 
> The AMAZING person who started this is named Piper and she runs a Tumblr (@pipercritical) where you can find all the necessary information regarding this. She's new to Tumblr, like me, but super sweet<3 So, if you're interested in having some great times just chatting and having fun, come join! Don't be shy, we are all very welcoming<3
> 
> MORE INFO (+ link to chatroom): pipercritical.tumblr.com


	28. the Good and the Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves<3  
> Long time since last, I knowww. It just took FOREVER to finish this chapter. Anyways, I hope you like it :)
> 
> But first, some info for y'all in case you somehow missed it last time:  
> __________________________________  
> ATTENTION ALL CREEPYSHIPPERS  
> I simply HAVE to mention something very important. Y'all know how there aren't a lot of us and plenty of people wants us gone from the internet, right? (lmao, never going to happen, we are eternal)  
> Well, I know the solution to your struggles as a minority in a large fandom!
> 
> PETSA LIFERAFT CHAT!
> 
> Every Sunday from noon to 9pm Pacific time (Central European time- 9pm to 6am), some of us gather on a website called Rabb.it and chat with each other! We watch PxS videos, chat about all things PxS related, speculate on s7+ theories, and most importantly; WE MAKE FRIENDS AND HAVE FUN
> 
> The AMAZING person who started this is named Piper and she runs a Tumblr (@pipercritical) where you can find all the necessary information regarding this. She's new to Tumblr, like me, but super sweet<3 So, if you're interested in having some great times just chatting and having fun, come join! Don't be shy, we are all very welcoming<3
> 
> MORE INFO (+ link to chatroom): pipercritical.tumblr.com
> 
> I'll be on there myself tomorrow (Sunday October 9) from noon and I'll stay about three hours. Come chat with me! :)

She received yet another mysterious bag of blue powder a few days after she had parted with Petyr in the prefect’s bathroom. Although, this time there was no note attached to it. Did Petyr not feel the need to tell her to “ _trust him”_ any longer? Did he not care if she did or not? She didn’t know but anger was not an emotion she could cope with now.  She had already spent so much of her time being angry with him that she now felt drained and only anxiousness remained.

_What will Petyr say when I meet him again? Will he still be hesitant to letting me in? On everything?_

She brewed tea from the powder and drank it down like last time, deciding that she should not ignore it. Whatever it was, he must think it important. _Still, he hasn’t even told me what it is…_ She thought miserably and got ready for another night of worrisome sleep.

-

She waited in the corridor for the class to end, hidden around a corner. She knew that her promise to Petyr had been that she would be in his class but it was impossible as long as Myranda was there.  Even the thought of being in the same room as that girl was unbearable. It made her sick and dizzy. She felt even worse when she thought about Ramsay.

Despite what she tried to tell herself, she was afraid of them both. They were not her greatest fear, at least it did not feel like it, but they still terrified her to the core. What would she even do if she had to face them? What _could_ she do? Perhaps what her own reaction would be was what made her so frightened. Would she try to kill them or only freeze in fear? Uncertainty was not a feeling she liked.

The door slammed open and she jumped from the sudden sound. She peaked around the corner carefully and felt her lungs constrict as she saw Myranda walk in the stream of students pouring out the classroom. She pressed her back against the stone and controlled her breathing while listening to the footsteps fade away slowly. _She can do me no harm. She doesn’t even know I’m here._

When she was sure no one would be left, she hurried around the corner and walked into the classroom where the door was still open, feeling less apprehensive about Myranda and more so about Petyr. Had he thought about what she had told him last? Had he realized what an idiot he was when he ignored her? Would he _finally_ give her the opportunity to be a part of everything? She had to know.

She hoped this talk with him would make her relax again and the anxiousness would let go of its iron grip. But of course, that depended entirely on what Petyr said. If he still refused her partnership in the plans, she was sure her heart would break. If he didn’t want her mind and thoughts, what was the point anymore? What was the point of revenge if Petyr would not be there with her? What was the point of _them?_

She sat down in a chair and bit her lip nervously, waiting for Petyr to notice her. He stood with his back turned to her as his hands busied themselves with collecting stray papers on his desk. He sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair before turning, his eyes immediately sticking on her.

His lips parted as he let out a breath and it was almost painful to look at him. Was he as hurt as he looked? Had he missed her that much? She looked down on her fidgeting hands, almost ashamed for staying hidden in the common room all week. Perhaps it would have been good for them both to see each other sooner. If only she had realized that before.

“I told you I’d be here.” She murmured and lifted her gaze to him again. He frowned in concern, just barely enough to truly notice, and he shook his head lightly. Was this an apology from him? Was this his way of saying that he was wrong without letting go of his proud nature? Her lips curled up into the smallest of smiles. Of course Petyr wouldn’t admit his defeat in pure words. He was a rather bad loser from what she’d gathered.

He strode toward her with long and quick steps, urgency in his whole demeanor.  But the wonderfully green pools in his eyes suddenly turned to cold grey stone and he almost stopped completely as he looked over her shoulder.

She then felt something dark approach behind her and it stopped to loom over her from the side. She looked up, startled, and Snape stared down at her with his black eyes and grimly set mouth. She managed a small fake smile but it died down without her full knowledge of it doing so.

Her desk shook as Snape dropped something onto it and a loud thud echoed around the large room. She looked down and saw that the item Snape had dropped was a thick book with classical brown leather binding and printed letters. It was not unfamiliar to her.

“It seems you forgot your book the last time you cared to attend my class Miss Stark.” He said low. That was the voice she found that he used when intimidation was his goal, and it worked, to her shame. She swallowed thickly and was just about to answer him when she felt Petyr suddenly move to stand behind her, like a protective shadow. Although she appreciated his support she knew he shouldn’t stand so close to her in the company of Snape.

“Severus. I cannot say I’m surprised to find you here. You have been awfully difficult to get rid of recently.” He said huskily in his usual masked voice. It was like he transformed himself. He did no longer sound like Petyr or behave like Petyr. This was Littlefinger, the mask he had to wear. “I’m sure your students would agree.”

Snape glared at Petyr, clearly furious over the disrespectful and mocking comment. Sansa only sat frozen in her chair, having a feeling of both nervousness and awe. Petyr used Snape’s need of being in charge against him. He reduced the power Snape had and replaced it with humiliation. She couldn’t help but notice how easily he had done it.

She now realized exactly what Petyr had meant that time when he had hidden her inside the wall after her encounter with Snape. He wanted her to learn how to move people the way _he_ did. He wanted her to read people, learn their weaknesses and use it against them. It was clear that Petyr was no beginner at this art and perhaps it was only natural for him to take her as an apprentice.

“I do not appreciate your mockery Littlefinger.” Snape practically hissed and she could strangely sense how Petyr had a devilish smirk on his face. But the situation was not a pleasant one and it ruined her plans. Snape wouldn’t let them be alone now. The opportunity to speak with Petyr in private was already lost.

She stood up carefully and clutched the book to her chest, ready to leave, but Petyr gently placed his warm hand on her shoulder. She had to fight a shiver from coursing through her body. Snape couldn’t be allowed to see how much she craved more of Petyr’s touch. Gods, it had been far too long since she had been this close to him. She could feel how his mere precense was enough to tie invisible ropes around her body, ready to drag her closer.

“You can stay Sansa.” He said close to her ear and she couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath. Why was Petyr doing this? Did he _want_ Snape to tell the headmaster? Was he completely insane? She glanced over to him and saw that his eyes were fixed forward steadily, not ready to abandon the battle.

She didn’t know exactly why Petyr was so foolish in his actions right now. Was it only rivalry? Some protective instinct that kicked in because he thought she could not handle herself? _He_ was the one who had made this worse by coming so close to her anyhow. She knew she had to do something about this situation and not let Petyr utter another word that would get them into more trouble.

“It’s alright professor Baelish. We can start my special classes next week, can’t we?” she said and stepped away swiftly although reluctantly, losing contact with his supporting hand. He looked at her with strangely nervous expression, perhaps not sure where she was going with this yet, but Snape spoke before Petyr could question.

“Special classes? I am not sure professor Dumbledore is aware of this…” He said, a threat lying poorly concealed behind his words. His eyes bore into Petyr with a deadly coldness. Sansa hated that, especially when Petyr seemed unable to wisely defend himself.

“The headmaster doesn’t _have_ to know, does he?” She quipped in and both the professors looked at her, one intrigued and the other glaring. “Cersei Lannister asked me to do better in school. I’ve fallen behind lately, particularly in defense against the dark arts, and professor Baelish was kind enough to offer me extra classes. I do not think we should concern the headmaster with such a small thing. But of course, if there is an issue I could bring it up with Ms. Lannister.”

Snape didn’t seem to have anything to say to that and Petyr dared to show a smirk as his eyes slowly traveled over her, making her skin tingle. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Snape wouldn’t question the authority of Cersei, and if he did he was a fool. He knew that Petyr worked for the ministry and it was no secret that the Lannisters held great power there. He could still speak to Dumbledore if he wanted, sure, but Cersei would do anything to keep Petyr as a spy. She would not allow him to lose his precious position simply because of a rumor from another professor.

Sansa had finally played the game, not just observed, and it seemed Petyr was quite delighted with her performance.

“Forgive me professors, I shall leave you to speak in privacy.” She said humbly, bowed her head and scurried out the room before anyone could stop her. She wouldn’t be able to answer any follow-up questions that may come.

She smiled when out of sight and a giggle escaped her lips, almost completely masked by the clacking of her shoes on the stone floor. Surely Petyr could see now? See how she was capable of doing this, not simply beside him, but _with_ him. When he was uncertain of what to say, she had made up the perfect lie.

“Sansa!” Margaery’s voice reached her ears and she turned around to see her friend running up the stairs effortlessly. Sansa’s smile unintentionally dropped in fear that Joffrey might be with her. Thankfully, it did not seem like it.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other. How are you?” Margaery asked with concern and briefly hugged her with gentle touches.

“Oh, yes I suppose it’s been long…” in truth, she hadn’t really given Margaery any thought. Too much had been going on and she had been awfully busy avoiding all kinds of interaction with people the last few weeks. She had stupidly spent most of her time sulking or feeling sorry for herself. _That will change now._ “I’m doing better but it’s still rather tough for me. You know, with everything.”

“It must’ve been awful to go through all that… with Harry…” Margaery said low and looked at her apologetically while holding on to her arm with a soft grip. They started walking to nowhere in particular, just around.

“Yeah…” a sad silence settled for a while before Margaery sucked in a breath sharply.

“I feel the need to tell you that… um, Joffrey has been rather difficult lately. I told you about that some time ago but because of your absence he has started to lose his patience. It won’t be long before he does something rash.” She said low, almost in a whisper but with urgency that resembled panic.

Sansa tried to push down the anger she felt towards Joffrey and instead think with reason, steer the conversation onto a better path than rage. It didn’t work completely. “Why is he so persistent? Why does he feel the need to torment _me?_ ”

“I’m so sorry… I believe it’s because he knows your loyalty. He knows you won’t tell anyone.” Margaery murmured and shook her head in what looked like desperation. “You should tell the headmaster Sansa. You really should. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.”

Her eyes started to tear up when she saw how truly and deeply Margaery cared for her. Despite their week long pause in communication, they had now fallen so easily into each other’s hearts again, feeling each other’s emotions. Although, it wasn’t in the same way she felt with Petyr. The emotion was just as strong but somehow different in a way she could not pin point.

“No. I can’t tell anyone. You of all people should know what a risk that is!” she whispered and Margaery’s eyebrows furrowed in empathetic pain. “The Lannisters have so much power in the ministry. Dumbledore doesn’t stand a chance. No one does.” It was only half a lie.

Margaery’s eyes darted around quickly before she firmly grabbed Sansa’s hand and lead her around the corner to a dead end of the corridor. A weaved drapery, depicting an old war called _the Dance of the Dragons_ , hung on the end wall but Margaery did not let that stop her. She pulled the drapery to the side, revealing a small room. Well, it wasn’t truly a room, more like half a room perhaps so a statue could fill up the space and not be in the way.

Margaery stepped in and Sansa could do nothing but follow. The drapery flowed over the opening, leaving the girls in a dim light, and Margaery whipped out her wand quickly. She whispered something imperceptible and a silver light spread over the fabric only to soak into it like water on the ground. Sansa recognized it as a protective spell.

“I shouldn’t tell you this, my grandmother would kill me if she found out I spoke about it.” Margaery’s voice trembled slightly and Sansa’s attention was immediately drawn to her. Judging by her voice it was important. _Very_ important.

“What is it?”

Margaery swallowed. “The Lannisters might _think_ they have power but they don’t. At least not for long. My grandmother has been working to undermine them for years but only now, thanks to my engagement to Joffrey and the help of professor Baelish, has she managed to gain some leverage. They won’t be able to hurt you anymore after we’ve taken them down, I promise.”

These news weren’t entirely new to Sansa but it still felt like a revelation. She didn’t know Margaery was so involved. But still, she had to play the game she so recently had begun grasping the ways of. “Baelish? I knew he worked for the ministry but undermining the Lannisters? That’s madness.” She said, sounding just enough shocked.

“I know it’s a risk, all of us do, but it’s the only way get them out of the picture. Cersei thinks Baelish is on her side, he feeds her false information on my grandmother’s orders. It’s all very elaborately laid out to work in our favor.” Sansa only stared at her, desperate for more information to satisfy her strange hunger. “There are two sides in all of this, the good and the evil. I’m sure you know which is which.”

 _No… I don’t..._ How could Petyr be good when he wanted the power all for himself? When he was working against everyone to reach his ends? That wasn’t _good_. But was it evil?

“Still, my grandmother can’t tell Baelish everything. There are things she is planning, things only she and I know about.” Sansa’s ears peaked and she recognized the opportunity to coax more information out of a person. Was that something she had learned from Petyr or did it come naturally? And more importantly; _did that make **her** evil?_

“What?” she whispered, playing shy and frightened when truthfully, the wickedness exited her. Margaery frowned and shook her head in careful refusal. She clearly didn’t want to say more and Sansa knew that she _shouldn’t_ say more. And yet… “Tell me. Please. I need to know. I can’t live in this uncertainty anymore, if frightens me so much. Please Margaery.”

 _Oh gods, what am I doing?_ She was manipulating her best friend, the one person who had always been kind to her no matter what, and she did it so _easily,_ without any thought of morality until it was already done. But she couldn’t be evil. She knew in her heart she wasn’t. But was this action good?

It felt almost necessary for her to do this. Petyr wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting power over the ministry. These schemes and plans he had, he had perfected them over years as far as Sansa knew. And now, were Margaery and Olenna threatening to ruin it? Would he destroy them for it? She loved Petyr but his destructive potential could not be overlooked. She had the opportunity to prevent her friend being in the way of all of this. She could tell Petyr this information and he could change his plans to avoid her getting hurt.

It was manipulation, ruining of trust between friends, but it was for a good cause, for protection. Then what was she? What was Petyr? Neither of them were evil, neither of them were good. Perhaps that was just what Slytherins such as them were _; grey,_ not fitting into any category, only doing what needed to be done.

“I can’t tell you…”

“Please! I don’t want anyone to get hurt. This is dangerous and I need to be able to protect the little family I have left.” It was a foul card to play but it was necessary. _Always necessary. I will use any means to achieve my ends._

Margaery squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She was biting the inside of her cheek. “Once we win the power, we will create a democracy.” She sighed and Sansa had to stop herself from frowning in confusion. Instead, she kept her face blank. Democracy didn’t seem too bad but why was Margaery still so nervous?

“And?” she asked hesitantly.

“We will start a democracy and… reveal ourselves to the muggle world.” This time, Sansa could not hide her true emotions. Her eyes were wide and her mouth ajar, shock clearly displayed along with a building panic.

“What? No, no…. Margaery you can’t be serious.” She gasped out and Margaery smiled carefully.

“Sansa, trust me. It will be okay. I know you are scared but it will all work out. Just think of all the good things we could do.” It was madness, complete madness. How could Olenna have agreed to this? _Of course, they’re both Hufflepuffs… believing in the good nature of people. But I know how cruel the world can be. Peace will never be known._

“You have to think this through, please. My aunt Lysa was… terrified of my family and only agreed to foster my brothers because of their inability to preform magic, being so young still. Lysa _hated_ us from the moment we cast out first spell, hated us for being different. What makes you think everyone else will react in other manners? How do you think muggles will react when they realize people can _kill_ with the wave of a wand?”

Margaery only shook her head, not listening to Sansa’s warnings completely. “We can all work together, united despite our differences. We can teach muggles so much and I’m sure they can teach us more.”

“Don’t do this.” Sansa begged but Margaery seemed unable to see the true reasoning. It was clearly impossible to change her mind at this point and all Sansa could do was to reluctantly give in. “Fine, I won’t tell anyone…” she whispered and broke the protection charm with her wand. She left quickly and without saying another word to her friend that didn’t seem to understand that not all people were as good as her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me lmao  
> I feel like I was being offensive to Hufflepuffs here (Slytherin myself) and I'm sorry if that is the case.
> 
> I was not, in any way, trying to make Margaery stupid. She is DEFINITELY not. She is one of the smartest people in the game, along with Olenna, but I was kinda trying to give her something to work towards, ya know? Marg is a good person and I believe she genuinely thinks revelation to the muggles is a good idea. She wants peace. Perhaps she is a little power hungry as well, hehe, but she would want to be the leader over muggles too then??? hmmm
> 
> I hope y'all stay with me despite this rash path I have taken. I needed some conflict now as the whole Petyr-angst thing is cooling down.
> 
> BUT!! How did you like the little lies she was crafting for Snape? Our girl is getting better at this...  
> Please tell me all your thoughts!! I love to read them<3  
> ____________________________  
> Also, please join the chat tomorrow (Sunday October 9) <333  
> Info on Tumblr @pipercritical


	29. the Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAARGHHH! Okay, it's been like forever since my last update but you know... school, bla bla bla, no time to write...
> 
> Anyways, here you go! NEW CHAPTER FINALLY!  
> I'm not super happy with this and I really should have handled some of these things better in previous chapters but I did the best I could, lmao.
> 
> ENJOY!<3

She felt like a failure. Margaery and her grandmother’s foolish plan to reveal themselves to the muggles was dangerous and Sansa hadn’t been able to convince Margaery to abandon the idea. Her only hope to spare her friend now was to betray her trust. It was painful to realize that she would have to knock Margaery off the board in the great game. But how? How could she do this and still avoid hurting anyone she loved? Margaery was stubborn and so was her grandmother. Would any of them ever accept leaving the game? Sansa sure hoped so.

She barely listened to what professor Sprout was teaching. Her mind faintly registered something about a fire-making spell but she was too deep in her thoughts to think about that. Professor Sprout wouldn’t care if Sansa listened anyways. She had been happy enough to see Sansa actually _attending_ in the first place. Cersei had been right, her grades were dropping, not only because of low attendance. But it wasn’t like she cared. Her rebellious side made her feel strangely close to Arya and she truly didn’t mind that.

Her classmates started to scribble down things in their notebooks and Sansa only pretended to do the same. She had no desire to learn about Herbology. The game was more important to her. _Petyr’s plans were more important._

Someone suddenly tapped her shoulder and she whirled around, her heart skipping a beat. She released a ragged breath as she saw it was not someone she knew. Was that a good or a bad thing? It was a girl, brown hair and brown eyes, the yellow and black crest on her cloak revealing she was a Hufflepuff. The girl quickly blinked, almost as if in shock, and then her face turned pitiful.

“Oh, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you!” she exclaimed and fidgeted with her hands nervously, waiting for Sansa to answer. Although Sansa did not feel any particular comfort in this girl she did not feel threatened either. A smile wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s alright. You didn’t mean it.” Sansa said and the corners of her lips quirked upwards, much to the relief of the girl who sighed heavily.

“Oh thank god. I should have approached you in another way, I mean, I know what happened to you in the shrieking shack and…” Sansa’s little smile fell quickly and the girl covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh no, I did it again. I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

This time Sansa only nodded, more cautious in her response.

“Umm…  I should really get to the point.” The girl breathed out a laugh and clasped her hands over her stomach. “Professor Baelish asked me to send for you.”

Sansa resisted the urge to frown in suspicion. Petyr wasn’t supposed to even be at Hogwarts. He should be at the ministry for the weekly meeting. _What if it’s Myranda? Or Ramsay? Or Joffrey? Or all three?_ Her jaw clenched involuntarily.

“Why?” she asked, putting on her naïve mask she was so used to wearing back with the Lannisters. The girl blinked a few times and then shrugged lightly.

“Um, I think he said something about special classes? Yeah, that was it.” The girl nodded as if confirming it to herself as she searched for the memory.

“Why did he send you?” Sansa said casually as she gathered her books. She tried her best to make the question innocent, as if it was of no importance to her. She still didn’t really trust the girl’s words. Perhaps she should. Perhaps she should stop being so nervous all the time and stop expecting that almost everyone wants to hurt her. But it was so difficult to rid herself of this fear. _The fear of being defenseless. Alone..._

“I remember _that!”_ the girl said with a laugh. “He said ‘ _Hufflepuffs are good finders._ ’ Very stereotypical but I don’t mind it. Oh, and he should be in his office now.”

Sansa nodded firmly and put on a fake smile to assure the girl she would go see him before slipping out of the greenhouse where the classes were held. _“Hufflepuffs are good finders”_ That _did_ sound like something Petyr would jokingly say to get someone to do his work.  And there couldn’t be a trap set up in Petyr’s office, could it? _No, but on the way there…_

She stopped in her tracks, deciding to listen to the cowardly voice in her head.

She walked completely opposite to how otherwise would. She took the longest route, used no shortcuts and none of the passageways. When she finally reached the door to his office she released a heavy breath, allowing herself to finally relax. Nothing had happened. Her knuckles gently tapped on the wood and it slowly opened by itself, giving her entry. She only took two steps in before she froze.

Petyr sat behind his desk, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes gazing up at her through his lashes. The muscles of his cheek twitched as he stared at her. But Sansa wasn’t focusing on him. All she could see was Myranda’s self-confident smile as she turned in her chair opposite to Petyr to look at Sansa.

She was twirling her dark hair around one of her fingers, her eyes lighting up when she saw Sansa’s tense posture.

“You may leave miss Royce.” Petyr dismissed in a surprisingly gentle tone and both the girls’ attention turned to him. Myranda stood up and did a small curtsy, trying to look better than she was.

“Of course professor.” She said in a sickly sweet tone and started to walk towards the door. Sansa managed to force her feet to move and she took a small step to the side, avoiding Myranda the best she could. But Myranda stopped beside her, grinning cruelly before turning to Petyr again.

“Sansa is looking rather ill, don’t you think? Should I follow her to her common room?” Sansa had to resist flinching.

Petyr suddenly chuckled lightly and smiled at Myranda. For a second Sansa felt a sting of pain, perhaps even jealousy, when Petyr did that. But she was soon relieved when she recognized the anger, the rage, hidden deep in his eyes. His smile was forced, his muscles strained, and one of his hands was tightly balled into a fist. His hatred ate away at Sansa’s fear, replacing it bit by bit by reassurance that she could come to no harm. She wasn’t alone.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Myranda nodded and walked out, swaying her hips a little more than normal. Sansa then thought of a word she hadn’t used to describe Myranda before; _pathetic._ Before, she had only felt anger and fear for Myranda but now it was almost as if she wasn’t worth it anymore. _Almost._ Myranda was still a danger and she deserved to be destroyed after what she’d done. Just not now. Now she was _nothing_ to either of them _._

The door shut and Petyr’s arms were around her in an instant, his raspy voice cooing softly in her ear. But she felt calm now, controlled, and didn’t truly feel like she needed Petyr’s comfort. Nevertheless, she pressed herself closer to him, breathing in his musky scent deeply. She had to admit, she had missed this contact during her time being angry with him. But now she felt like he had learned his lesson.  

She pulled away to look at him, feeling certain that Petyr had made sure no one could enter to find them entwined like this.

“I didn’t plan for you to meet her now, please believe me.” He said and looked into her eyes apologetically, desperately. She could tell he was afraid of another rejection from her. Was it truly so hard for him to be away from her?

She smiled softly at him and ran her fingers through his hair. Her hands cupped his face, tickled by his light stubble, and she stretched forward to kiss him. He did not need to be persuaded to kiss her back. His arms circled around her waist to pull her close and his mouth hungrily battled hers.

She pulled back then, all too soon for his liking, and studied his features. He looked tired.

“I believe you.” She said and he exhaled, noticeably relaxed from her words. “But you have a lot of explaining to do.”

She pushed away from him and walked around his desk, hearing him chuckle lightly at her determination. She hadn’t been in his office before, surprisingly, and now she took her time to look around. All furniture was made of dark wood with carved details decorating the otherwise plain surfaces. The lighting was dim and warm, giving off a sense of comfort, and to her amusement the air even smelled like him. Hundreds of books lined the shelves and dark potions were carefully placed inside a glass cabinet in the back.

“Why was Myranda in here?” Sansa asked with lightly furrowed brows as she let her fingers trace the enchanted cover of a book about dragons. They spit fire on each other, fighting until one would fall.

“I certainly didn’t invite her.” Petyr answered from behind, clearly not happy that Myranda had paid him a visit. Sansa smiled at that. “She asked about her grades… and yours.”

Sansa turned around and looked at him, and eyebrow raised in question. “She mentioned that she would be _delighted_ if she could help you in your studies. I dismissed that idea of course, and instead proposed a better option.” He smirked wickedly. “She has been moved to a more advanced class.”

He took a strand of Sansa’s hair and let his fingers feel its softness. Sansa was surprised, as displayed by her features, and Petyr chuckled.

“You may now come to my class freely and without fear. She won’t bother you anymore. As long as I’m with you.” His voice dropped and he tucked her air behind her ear before kissing her lightly. Sansa smiled.

“Do you think the interrogation is over?”

He breathed out a laugh, a genuine smile on his face. She loved when he was like that. “No. Ask away, sweetling.”

“Did Snape bother you yesterday after I left?” she asked coyly and wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying. His hands gripped her waist and moved with her, like they were dancing to no music.

“No. He left rather abruptly. You were a _vision_.” He whispered in her ear and she shivered. “I’ve already spoken to Cersei and made sure she approves of these _special classes._ Always make sure to build a safety net, sweetling. You don’t want to be caught, no matter how great the lie is.”

She giggled lightly and rested her head on his shoulder, still swaying around to the silence of the room. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the ministry by now? To the meeting?”

“Tywin cancelled it because of a _family crisis_ he said. Apparently his youngest son has been seen being _intimate_ with a muggle.”

Sansa frowned. “Tyrion?”

Petyr hummed in answer and Sansa couldn’t help but feel a little sad. She hated the Lannisters but Tyrion had never felt like one of them. He had never been cruel or condescending to her or Arya. He had never wished any of them harm. In fact, he seemed to hate no one but his own family.

“What is going to happen to him?”

“He tried to run away but didn’t get very far. His own lover tricked him into his father’s claws before she was killed by Tywin himself. For now I don’t think anything will happen. Tywin can’t afford having his family’s name dragged in the dirt. Tyrion will most likely be a prisoner in his own home, away from all publicity for as long as Tywin can keep it that way.”

“Can’t you help him?” Sansa asked sadly. She knew what it was like to be kept prisoner in that cold and cruel mansion of theirs. She had never felt so miserable than when she was there. Hogwarts had become her sanctuary, and now that Hogwarts didn’t feel safe, Petyr was. Tyrion didn’t have any of that. He had no other home. He had no friend like Petyr.

“I can, but it would risk too much. We must let this play out, see where it ends. Then we can make our move.” 

Petyr noticed her apprehension to leaving Tyrion on his own. He knew she was kind hearted to those who deserved it. He knew Tyrion had done her no wrong, at least not like others had.

“I know you’re worried but you have to trust me. Tyrion will be fine. Tywin may be cruel but he protects his family. It is his legacy and he does everything to make it the best.”

Sansa knew Petyr was right. Tywin seemed to loathe Tyrion but she couldn’t imagine him doing anything more than threaten his son.

The swayed around for a while longer and Sansa knew she had to bring it up sooner or later. “I spoke to Margaery yesterday.” She murmured into Petyr’s neck, playing with his short dark hair.

“Tyrell.” Petyr stated and kissed her behind her ear gently, urging her to explain.

“She told me what her grandmother was planning.” Petyr froze and pulled back to look at Sansa. His expression was cautious.

“And?”

She sighed heavily. “She said they were planning on starting a democracy.” Petyr raised his eyebrow in surprise. “and then they will reveal themselves to the muggles.”

Petyr’s eyes narrowed and he pulled back from their embrace to run his fingers through his already messy hair. “I tried to convince her that it wasn’t a good idea but she wouldn’t listen. She said they could make the world a better place by doing this. She doesn’t realize how dangerous it is.”

“This doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound like Olenna. If it is as I believe, Margaery’s grandmother has stretched the truth quite a bit.” Petyr mumbled and clenched his jaw in thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Olenna isn’t a fool. She has said just the right things to get her granddaughter to agree to the plan. If they _do_ truly plan a democracy, they would want the Lannisters gone. Margaery might think they plan for justice, to send the Lannisters to Azkaban, but Olenna is planning for slaughter.” Sansa’s breath got caught in her throat.

“The most clever move she could make would be to reveal the Lannisters to the muggles when they are weak. A war would break out most likely, but the Tyrells would stay out of it. When things would settle down she could move in and take the power with her family. They would be seen as the good and diplomatic side of the wizarding world. She would get more power than any other wizarding ruler before. And it can all be laid out as a tragedy, a terrible act of war on the muggles from the Lannisters.”

Sansa shook her head lightly. “Olenna wouldn’t do that. There is no _honor_ in that.  No loyalty or justice. So many would get hurt.”

Petyr sighed again. “That is a risk she is willing to take. She is clever, more clever than most, and more fit to be a Slytherin than Hufflepuff. Though her reputation as a Hufflepuff has certainly given her plenty of opportunities. People trust her easily, they believe nothing bad could come from it. That is a grave mistake on their part.”

Sansa had heard people say you could make the sorting hat place you in a certain house, if only you tried hard enough. Was it possible that Olenna had done this when she went to Hogwarts? Has she always wanted power? Or had something made her this way, like Petyr? But Sansa wasn’t sure she believed in these rumors about altering your sorting. She had _begged_ to become a Gryffindor and had instead been sorted into Slytherin, thereby becoming the family disappointment.

“And what will we do about this? About them? ” Sansa asked hesitantly. Petyr looked up at her with almost sad eyes. “You can’t hurt them Petyr. Not Margaery, not her family.”

“Sweetling…” Petyr whispered and held her in his arms again. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of losing her friend. Petyr _couldn’t_ hurt them. She would not allow it.

“I don’t know what to do. Olenna won’t give up. She is in this until the end.” Sansa clenched her eyes shut, not wanting the tears to fall. Petyr pulled back and kissed her forehead with soft pressure. “But I promise you I won’t do _anything_ until I have your approval. We’ll figure this out.”

She rested her forehead against his and calmed herself, focusing on Petyr’s hand that was rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Thank you.” She mumbled after a while, her eyes drying.

“I told you I would let you be a part of this.” He breathed out and chuckled lightly. She smiled and nestled her face in the crook of his neck, feeling warm as she breathed him in. She vaguely wondered if his scent would linger on her. And would anyone else feel it?

“How long have we been here?” she murmured almost sleepily. Petyr pulled his fingers through the soft copper waves that cascaded down her back.

“Not long enough.” He husked into her ear and she smiled. That meant she _should_ get going but Petyr didn’t want her to. In truth, neither did she. But she was already late to potions class. Perhaps she had already missed half.

“I should go.” She said and started to pull back but Petyr held her tighter to him, refusing to let go. She giggled and tried again, but to no avail. His light chuckle made his chest vibrate against her. “Come on Petyr…”

“Sansa?” He said and she was taken aback by the not-so-lighthearted tone in his voice. Still, she stayed in the embrace.

“Yes?”

“The herbs I’ve given you, do you know what it is?” he said hesitantly and she was starting to get worried by the tone of his voice.

“No.”

“I should have told you before. I should have told you the first time you got them but I didn’t. I have always found it easier to avoid issues, never to bring them up again. It’s a bad habit.” He murmured and kissed her neck gently before breathing in the scent of her hair.

“What? What is it?” She didn’t know why he was so cryptic and it frightened her. Not for her own sake, strangely enough, but for him. Why was he so apprehensive suddenly?

“It’s moon tea.” He said, like he forced himself to actually say it aloud. His shoulders were slightly tense, as if he anticipated _something_ to happen. As if he anticipated more than silence as her reaction.

She took a few deep breaths, searching in her mind to try to remember what exactly _moon tea_ meant. “Is that the herb that prevents…” her voice trailed off.

No answer. Only deathly silence. She pushed him back a bit, forcing him to straighten his posture and look at her, but his arms were still around her frame. His entire demeanor was guarded, uncertain. “It had never even crossed my mind…” she whispered, mostly to herself.

The thought of pregnancy wasn’t something that she had felt the need to ever worry about. She was still so young, children was not something she ever thought about after she’d learned how cruel the world could be. She felt so childish, so silly that she hadn’t taken any responsibility for her actions.

Petyr was watching her cautiously and she realized he expected her to be angry. He had taken away a choice from her and perhaps he now even _wanted_ her to be angry. Did he want to be punished for wronging her? Practically lying to her? She wasn’t sure.

She looked to the ground, _wanting_ to be angry but couldn’t truly do it. “You should have told me.” She muttered, hurt by his actions and ashamed by lack of her own.

“I know.” Was all he answered.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I tend to make things more complicated than they are. I tend to avoid getting close to _anyone_. Perhaps this was a half-hearted attempt to push you away.”

She bit her lip in worry. “Do you want me gone?”

“No.” he answered as soon as the last word had left her lips. “I can’t seem to keep myself composed when you’re not around.” He gave off a light chuckle.

She waited for what felt like hours in his arms, waited for those three words… _I love you._ She wasn’t sure if she waited for herself to say it or him. Perhaps both. But no one said a word for the longest time. It was a silent apology from him. An apology for robbing her of a choice that was hers to make. And it was forgiveness from her. She forgave him because if _he_ hadn’t taken it upon himself to prevent pregnancy, there could have been devastating consequences.

Petyr finally moved to cradle her face in his hands, making him look up at him. His eyes asked permission and she could do nothing but grant it to him. He leaned down and kissed her softly, apologetically, and leaned his forehead on hers once again. “It’s time for class soon. My class.”

“I don’t feel like going.” She sighed, tired after all the information she was processing. Even if she went to class now, she wouldn’t be able to remember anything.

“Skipping class, miss Stark? Tsk, you’re not as good of a student as I first thought you were.” He jested and she smiled, amused by his teasing. Clearly, he enjoyed seeing a smile on her face as he smiled too. She loved his smiles. They were so rarely seen in public. Almost never.

“I fooled you then didn’t I?”

“That you did. You can rest in the room of requirement until class is over. I’ll come for you then.” He offered and she hummed a yes in answer. He waved his hand and a door opened in the back wall, just like in the classroom, and she lazily pulled herself away from him. She gave him a small smile before slipping into the dark tunnel, the door closing behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let me just address that the moon tea part felt so out of place with Petyr's character. I think I should have made Sansa take the moon tea freely from the beginning BUT HEY I have to use what I got. You reap what you sow (unless you're a Greyjoy that is. "we do not sow" XD)
> 
> SO please forgive me for this weird, out of character, mishap.
> 
> AND FINALLY SOME MORE ANSWERS AND REMOVAL OF OBSTACLES IN THE PLOT! Sansa can start going to Petyr's class again WOOO! But I promise, Petyr's plans will soon be set to work.
> 
> Some foreshadowing in here (did you spot it?) and lots of fluff and forgiving. *sigh* I'm glad I pushed this chapter out becasue I've been dwelling over it for too damn long.  
> I have some time off rn so I will hopefully be able to post another chapter by the end of the week (YAY)
> 
> Please leave feedback! Good and bad is both welcome, I seek to improve<3


	30. Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUCKLE UP KIDS! We're going for a ride ;)

She emerged into the light, the warm atmosphere of the room embracing her with open arms. She felt comfortable here, free, like she could drop all her acts and facades. Even more so when Petyr was with her. But he wasn’t here now. He was busy teaching his class.

She smiled, wondering if he would be driven crazy by the thought of her waiting for him in their secret room. Did he imagine her greeting him with a passionate kiss as he walked in? Or did he imagine her lying nude on some furs whilst eyeing him seductively? She somehow felt drawn to doing both.

Nevertheless, it was over an hour before his class would end so she had plenty of time to ponder over in what special way she would greet him.

She was delighted to see that the room had more details since last time she had been here. That was far too long ago really. The fireplace was roaring, as always, and soft furs still lay strewn in front of it. But against a wall now stood a big bookshelf, filled with all kinds of literature. A black divan was beside it, inviting her to sit down. It was like the room was slowly getting to know her.

She grabbed a book about ‘ _the art of spell casting’_ and sprawled out on the divan. Her eyes lazily swept over the words, taking them all in. Time was lost to her.

She stopped a page where they explained non-verbal spells and her mind shifted to Petyr. He almost _always_ used non-verbal spells. And sometimes even without a wand. It said in the book that one had to be a powerful witch or wizard to be able to do either of those things. And Petyr had easily done both at the same time.

Did that mean Petyr was powerful? But _how_ powerful? She had felt how strong Joffrey’s spells could be. A single wave and his _stupefy_ could to crush bones.  And yet, Joffrey had never done anything without saying the spell out loud or using his wand. Besides, Sansa had never seen, or felt, Petyr’s attack spells. She couldn’t tell what the difference between him and Joffrey would be.

Perhaps the power was in the secrecy of it all? Petyr could, if he wanted, cast a spell without anyone really noticing it was him. That was an advantage, wasn’t it?

She sighed, her head not making sense of it. She would have to ask him if he ever _felt_ powerful. _He should_. She closed the book and placed it down on the floor beside her, simply letting her mind drift back to the conversation she had had with him before.

Moon tea… How mad could she be when she agreed with him that she should take it? Children _now,_ or ever, seemed almost unthinkable. The dangers it would bring was terrifying to her. And would Petyr even want children? She wasn’t sure if he was that kind of man.

She had always felt like she would be a good mother and she had always wanted children. Until her family’s execution... Before that, life had seemed like a fairytale with only happy endings in sight. Now the world was so clearly dangerous, she felt anxious just by the _thought_ of having to protect one more person.

She felt like Petyr had done the right thing by giving the herbs to her, but not by fooling her into taking it. He should have given her the choice. It wouldn’t have mattered then. She would have taken it with almost no questions asked.

But he had been remorseful at least. She had never quite seen him so uncertain and afraid. _He was afraid that I would leave him. Perhaps he still is._ The thought broke her heart. Petyr always seemed so strong but in reality, when he dared to truly show himself to her, he was fragile. He had been hurt before and his mind was set to not being hurt again. She couldn’t leave him. Not because she felt obligated to stay, but because she wanted to. With him _she_ was strong, they were both strong when they were together.

But what now? Perhaps she should ask him to give her the moon tea herbs so she could hide it in her dorm. Then he wouldn’t have to smuggle it to her and she wouldn’t feel so childish. She could take her own responsibility and not be so utterly dependent on him. She had to to _some_ things by herself.

A loud rumble jerked her out of her thoughts and she looked around, thinking it was the wall opening for Petyr to enter. But she saw no door appearing. It rumbled again, louder this time, and she sat up quickly. She placed her feet down on the floor, ready to sprint off if she had to. The room would create an escape door for her if she only started running.

It rumbled again and she forced herself to not panic. The floor shook with the sound. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to find the source, and her gaze was drawn to the large coffin that suddenly stood to the side of the fireplace. Sansa was sure it had not been there before.

The coffin shook violently with the sound and after focusing, she recognized what it was. It was the coffin containing the boggart.

She strained her eyes, examining the large box from a distance. Why was it there? Had she _wanted_ it to be there? Or had the room deemed it safe to place it there without her actually _needing_ it? The coffin shook again, banging against the stone floor loudly. Sansa was almost afraid that the wood would break apart into splinters from the force.

She took a few hesitant steps towards it, for no reason other than curiosity. It shook again, almost jumping completely into the air for a second before calming down its movements. It didn’t entirely stop shaking as she moved closer. It quivered but not violently. When she was close enough, she reached out her hand and placed it on the lid. The movements stopped.

She waited, waited for the coffin to throw itself into the air again, but nothing happened. Her eyes drifted to the complicated locks that kept the boggart inside. She knew she shouldn’t even try to open it. It could be dangerous to release the boggart on her own. But if she waited for Petyr he wouldn’t allow her to open it at all.

She did not know why he was so overly protective when it came to this. She did not feel like it was necessary. The boggart couldn’t hurt her, right? It was merely a creature that took the form of her fears. Couldn’t Petyr see why she wished to know what exactly her fears were?

It was now or never. She shouldn’t, but she _had_ to know what she should protect herself against. She took out her wand, got down on her knees, and lightly tapped the lock with the tip of it _. “Alohomora.”_ She whispered.

A large cogwheel in the center started spinning, setting the smaller ones surrounding it into rotation. Slowly they turned, making one hatch after the other snap free of its restrains. Soon the mechanisms stopped and the top of the coffin popped open only an inch.

Sansa hesitantly opened it more and more, expecting something to fly out and take its shape. Her heart beat loudly in her ears with steady thumps. She peaked inside, her breathing ragged and nervous, not noticing how the wall across the room was slowly starting to shift.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the coffin and she almost felt disappointed when she could see nothing but the wood in the bottom of it. There was no creature in there. She didn’t understand. She opened it completely and simply stared at the emptiness of it. But how could it have moved if there was nothing inside? She was so confused.

Just as she was about to close it she spotted something. A tiny light, no larger than a grain of sand, flickered inside. She leaned closer, trying to see what it was, and it suddenly grew. Green light blinded her as the flames spread inside, only to burst out and hit her hard in the chest.

She gasped and fell back, her lungs stinging and she felt like her entire body was on fire. It was so painful, she could barely breathe, but the worst part was the sound. The words echoed all around her, or was it only in her head? She couldn’t tell. All she knew at this moment was fear.

“ _Avada Kedavra.”_ The voice hissed and the pain shot through her again with green flames flaring against her defenseless body. Tears blurred her vision and she thought about them; _her family._ Was this what it felt like to die from the killing curse?

 _“Avada Kedavra.”_ It was a whisper but loud enough to sting as if someone screamed in her ears. Had her family; her mother, father, Robb and Jon, suffered like she did now? Was it truly so painful to die?

“ _Avada Kedavra.”_

 _Am I dying?_ She couldn’t be entirely sure. It felt like it. It felt so real.

Despite her disorientation and pain she could see how the green light was suddenly blocked from making another attack on her. A dark shadow stepped forward, between her and the terrible curse. Her body went stiff as she realized it could only be one person. It could only be Petyr.

 _No…_ She wanted to protest but no words came out of her clenched throat. _No Petyr I don’t want you to get hurt please…_ She felt so weak.

But the green before Petyr then warped and twisted, no longer looking like those awful flames. The colors shifted and through her tears she saw how something contaminated the striking emerald, making it darker into shades of autumn. Deep crimson and coppery orange filled her vision, only Petyr’s dark form blocking her from seeing what it really was.

“Ridikulus!” He said and she was almost frightened by the tone of his voice. It was harsh and stern, no patience or warmth. The strange mixture of colors then exploded, like fireworks she thought, and then they disappeared along with a loud bang of the coffin slamming shut.

She stared off into nothingness, shocked by what had happened and how quickly things had changed. Warm arms then wrapped around her and she instantly welcomed the embrace, curling up to Petyr’s chest. His heart was beating so fast.

“Oh Sansa, what did you do?” he whispered gently, fearfully, in her ear while cradling her in his lap on the floor. She couldn’t see a thing, the tears in her eyes now making it impossible to see anything but the darkness of Petyr’s cloak. She suddenly remembered to breathe and then began sobbing. She pressed herself tighter against him, even though it was not truly needed. He held her pressed against him so much that she could very well break something.

“Oh Sansa…” He pressed his face in the crook of her neck as she cried, still so afraid. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.

She could not tell how long they had been sitting there but her eyes were finally drying up. Petyr’s tight hold on her had loosened but his arms had not once released her. She focused on his slowing heartbeat to calm herself.

“I’m sorry…” she finally said, her voice raspy and coarse from her sobbing. She could hear Petyr sigh, perhaps in relief that she was finally speaking, and he gently turned her face up to look at him. It almost looked as if he was in pain.

“It’s alright.” He said and swallowed, smiling weakly at her.

“I shouldn’t have opened it. I just wanted to know Petyr. I just wanted to know…” she whispered and felt her lower lip quiver, warning for another potential crying fit.

“Shhh, it’s alright sweetling. I’m not angry.”

“It was so painful Petyr… Is that what my family felt as they died? That _agony?”_

“No, no, Sansa… The killing curse, it’s… it’s too quick. They didn’t have the time to feel anything.” He said sadly, knowing their deaths still hurt her so.

“But…” she protested weakly.

“Sansa. You felt the pain because it’s your worst fear. You are afraid that they suffered. “ He sighed. “You are afraid to use the killing curse because of that. You are afraid to use it because you know that it’s the reason you were robbed of half your family. You are afraid of the destruction it brings.”

She had nothing to say for a minute. She had to force her mind to remember what the boggart was for; to show you your fears. It seemed she had forgotten that when it attacked. Her mind had turned blank. But if what Petyr said was true…

“How am I supposed to defeat my… our… enemies then? I know I won’t feel safe with them still alive. I _want_ them to die but my worst fear is the only thing that can free me from them.” She felt hopeless. Petyr _could_ most likely cast it instead of her if he had to, but that would almost be worse. To see him use that spell… she shivered at the thought.

“There are… other ways to end a life, Sansa.” Petyr said and she focused her eyes on his.

“I know there are other ways, muggle ways, but that’s so…” she almost said _messy_ but it didn’t feel like the right word. Barbaric perhaps. But wasn’t killing barbaric either way?

“I don’t mean muggle ways.” Petyr explained and she frowned a bit in confusion.

“What do you mean?” There was only one killing curse, and it was forbidden. There was nothing else. _Only one terrible curse._ Petyr took a deep breath.

“Do you remember that book your sister found?”

“Yes. I still have it underneath my mattress.” She didn’t know where he was going with this.

“I wrote it.” He said and almost smirked .She merely stared at him, wide eyed, with no words coming to mind for quite some time.

“You..?” she stammered out.

“Yes.”

“So all those jinxes and hexes… those spells… did _you_ create them?”

“I did.” He smirked. It seemed impossible, unreal. Could he really have created all of them?

“What do they do? The last four, the emphasized spells?” Could he really answer that? He chuckled low, his hand rubbing circles on her back as he looked down on her, a soft smile on his lips.

“Well, I believe your sister has already figured out the use of _Reparo Totus._ It repairs almost anything. Even if only ash remains from the original object.” He couldn’t be lying now could he? She had never told him what the spells were called.

“ _Muffliato_ creates a buzzing sound around you, making it impossible for anyone to eavesdrop. _Levicorpus_ holds the victim suspended in the air upside down.” She giggled lightly. That was ridiculous…

“And the last one?” She asked and Petyr swallowed thickly. His smile dropped.

“ _Mutus Mortem…_ It means speechless death.” He paused and regarded her expression. She _did_ have a feeling that this spell wasn’t a good one but she hadn’t really expected this. “You needn’t speak to cast this, despite its power and difficulty. You need only think it and turn your wand correctly in the right direction. It kills the victim by drawing all air out of their lungs. They die slowly and silently.”

She had nothing to say to that despite having many questions. How could he have created a spell, or _curse,_ like that and not gotten caught? Why had he created it? Had he used it? Petyr seemed to recognize the questioning in her eyes and he traced her jaw with his soft knuckles.

“You are aware of my troubled past. I did what I had to do to survive, as you did. Do not dwell on it.” He advised and she nodded weakly. He was right. She shouldn’t dwell on _why._ She shouldn’t dwell on the past, his or hers. Instead, she looked ahead.

“I don’t think I can do it…” she sighed and he frowned slightly, his hands still caressing small parts of her body.

“Do what?”

“Kill them.” She whispered, her eyes tearing up but she did not let any fall. “I want them to die but I don’t think I can do it. No matter the curse, I’m not sure I can take a life.”

He pressed a warm and reassuring kiss on her forehead. “I won’t force you to do anything. When it comes to it, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m not innocent as you are. It won’t matter to me.”

“Thank you…” Was all she could think of to say. It was a terrible thing to agree upon really. Sort of like _“if you don’t kill them, I will.”_ But it was somehow beautiful as well. Petyr would do that for her. To keep her safe. She released a breath and rested her head against his chest again, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Sansa lost track of time as she was curled up in his arms, their limbs entwined to share comforting warmth. But she still had a question left. “Petyr?”

“Yes.” He mumbled and she heard him breathe in the scent of her hair. He had done that quite often lately.

“What did you see?”

“See where?” he stopped drawing invisible shapes on her back, his fingertips resting on her spine.

“When you stepped between me and the boggart. What did you see?” He swallowed hard and once again turned her head up to him. He was silent for a time but she decided not to pressure him. Finally he took a breath to speak.

“I saw you…” he began, pausing, but she did not understand. She couldn’t be his fear, could she? “and I wasn’t there beside you.”

She opened her mouth to question his answer but he was too quick.

“I love you.”

“What?” she breathed out, her lips suddenly feeling dry when he looked at her so deeply.

“I love you Sansa.” He repeated those three words she had waited for him to say. The eternity she had waited was suddenly nothing more than a second. All that mattered was him right now.

“I love you too.” She whispered, her voice almost breaking, and she reached up to kiss him. His lips tasted so good now that she had heard those three words uttered from them.

Petyr met her kiss with ferocity, their teeth clashing in wonderful hunger for each other. She felt so light. So free of restraints. She could say it freely now. _I love you…._ She could say it to him and not be afraid that he didn’t feel the same. She now knew that he loved her just as much as she loved him. It wasn’t only a gut feeling anymore; he had actually said it.

His hands roamed her body, freeing her of clothes one piece at a time. He tugged off her blazer and swiftly unbuttoned her shirt while she kicked off her shoes and stockings. With fumbling hands she found his silver pin and removed it before unbuttoning his cloak with less deft fingers than him. They never once stopped kissing.

Their movements weren’t very sweet or romantic. They were lustful and greedy but she didn’t mind. She just needed him.

She was clad in only her underwear and skirt when he suddenly picked her up. She wrapped her limbs around his body to make their move to the cushioned divan easier. He set her down carefully and started kissing along her jawline, his arms on either side of her body holding her captive.

His shirt had been discarded somewhere along the way and he pressed himself against her while only wearing his black slacks, now stretching around his crotch. She moaned softly as he suckled at her neck.

She lifted her gaze and looked at the opposite wall while grinding her hips against his bulge. She could almost feel the memory of that wall against her back when she had won. When he had kissed her. A wicked idea came to her. “Petyr?”

He grunted in response as his hungry kisses moved down to her breast, his hands unhooking her bra in a quick motion before throwing it to the side. He caught a nipple between his teeth and she mewed from the wonderful mix of pain and pleasure.

“Do you…” she gasped as his tongue swirled over her skin expertly . “Do you remember what you promised me?”

Petyr stopped his movements and brought his face up to hers, a confused and slightly frustrated look on his features. He was breathing heavily with desire. “What?”

“When we first kissed?” she leaned forward and bit his lower lip gently while bucking her hips against him again. He moaned low in his throat and his fingers dug into her thighs. He probably couldn’t remember.

“You said you’ll happily give me the pleasure I want. I need only ask.” She smiled against his lips, gave him a quick peck, and pulled back to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust and her core was already burning with heat. It pulsated between her legs in anticipation and she could smell her own arousal.

His lips turned upwards in a devilish smirk. “Your wish is my command.”

She ran her fingers through his hair and started pressing him downwards to where she needed touch the most. She wanted him to do that _thing_ again. What he had done in the hospital wing. He smirked wider at her advances and hooked his fingers on the hem of her skirt, pulling it down along with her underwear. She was completely exposed for him now and her skin tingled when his gaze shifted over her body. She would never tire of the way he looked at her.

She lifted her legs up, spreading them apart with her heels on the divan. He gazed at her wetness and licked his lips slowly before inching closer, his breath teasing her to the point of madness. He wrapped his arms around her legs, holding her hips firmly in place, and met her eyes. He smirked again and let his tongue lightly flick over her clit.

She moaned and tried to hold his gaze. He did the same motion again, slower, and she quickly moved her legs to his back. His teasing was excruciatingly frustrating and she pressed his body closer by pushing her heels into his ribs.

“Tsk… I only promised to do what you _asked,_ my love.” He husked and she smiled from those words. But her face then twisted into a frown of frustration as he flicked her with his tongue again, not doing anything more. But she _needed_ more.

“Please Petyr…” She gasped. “Please. I need you.”

He chuckled and gave in with a lustful grunt, finally leaning down to pleasure her completely. His lips moved over her folds like he was kissing her and his tongue rolled sweetly over her clit. She writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy despite being the one to start as the leader.

Jolts of pleasure surged through her and her nails scraped against his scalp. Petyr’s low moans were a part of her reward. She tried to buck her hips against him but he held her down. She mewed, the heat in her core building up rapidly before finally releasing in a wave of ecstasy. Her legs shook and she moaned something that resembled his name while pleasure pulsated inside her.

He lapped at her several more times as her orgasm came to an end. He gently kissed the insides of her thighs before pulling her legs off him, crawling up to kiss her mouth. Her own arousal was sweet and slick, making her even wetter. She needed him inside her.

She quickly reached down and unbuttoned his slacks while forcing him to turn around and sit in her place. His chuckle turned into a raspy moan as she grabbed his length and slowly moved her hand up and down. He quickly kicked his slacks off his ankles, now as nude as her.

Her inexperience was pushed aside in her head and she knelt down between his legs to kiss the tip of his hard cock. She tasted a light saltiness on her tongue as she swirled it around. His hand weaved its way into her hair and she took it as a sign to continue.

Carefully, she wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked gently. He closed his eyes and his head rolled back as a moan came from his throat. She pushed down a little before going up again and then repeated the same motion over and over, finding herself enjoying the sounds of pleasure he made. It was all because of her after all.

“Fuck...” he grunted when she took him into her mouth almost completely and then he pulled her up by her hair. The way he handled her wasn’t painful, it was arousing. He crashed his lips against hers, mixing their flavors together.

Sansa crawled up on the divan and straddled him, his cock rubbing against her clit, making them both moan obscenely. She reached down and aligned him with her entrance before slowly sinking down, savoring the feel of him filling her. He pushed in completely and she started to go up and down, rocking her hips forward to make him hit that wonderful place inside of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands roamed her body, grabbing her ass to assist in her movements. He started to meet her with upwards thrusts and she cried out in pleasure from each hit. They rested their foreheads together, their breaths mingling in between heated kisses.

Petyr was going faster now, frenzied as he chased the sweet release. Sansa brought her hand down to rub her clit, feeling herself getting close as well.  A few move thrusts into her and she was gone, her eyes shutting as her orgasm hit. She pulsated around his cock that was still buried deep inside her and then she felt how he spilled his seed.

She gasped at the warm feeling and gently rocked forward to the last waves of her orgasm. Exhausted, she fell against him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. Their warm bodies melted to each other. She wanted it to always be like this.

He pulled out of her slowly and she whimpered from the loss but her sound was quickly swallowed by his tired lips kissing her gently. He leaned to the side and laid down on the divan, pulling her down with him so that her back was against his chest and his arm tightly around her waist. His grip was possessive.

He kissed her behind the ear and pulled some furs over them both. “I love you Sansa.”

 “I love you too Petyr.” She mumbled.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

 

Inspiration:

*I do not own this video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> **A comment a day keeps the writer okay**
> 
>  
> 
> I'm personally SO HAPPY that Petyr has finally admitted out loud that he loves her. Not only because they are otp but also because I CAN NOW MAKE HIM CALL HER "MY LOVE"!!! I've restrained myself a lot recently and I've just been ACHING to write "my love" like in every sentence. *phew* 
> 
> SMUT! ANSWERS! But also a little bit of mystery... Probably going to both Petyr and Sansa POV next chapter and I'll try to update in a week. I feel like I'm on a roll right now lmao XD  
> -
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> **Go check out my Tumblr!**
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> Username: arianassunflower


	31. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter so sorry about that... I couldn't really write Sansa's POV now for some reason. Writer's block hit me. BUT HEY! Petyr's POV is here again!
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be up next weekend and will take us back to Sansa's POV ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Petyr_ **

She was beautiful like this. Her naked body was pressed up against his with their limbs entwined, her hair was sprawled out to frame her delicate face with copper tones, her soft sighs of sleep were a melody in his ears. Petyr wished they would never have to break apart. He wished he could always wake up like this; by her side.

But to his sadness, he knew it was time to rise soon. His internal clock told him morning had once again arrived and he couldn’t miss the first class of the day. He had already missed one last night and a cleverly crafted lie would be needed to excuse it. He softly nuzzled in the crook of Sansa’s neck and breathed in her sweet scent. She smelled of lemons and… he smiled against her skin as he recognized what it was…; _him._ She smelled of him.

Normally he wouldn’t recognize his own scent but it was so strange to sense it on her that he quickly picked up the musk and mint. He knew he would not have a problem with it. It sparked a possessive feeling in him and he only wanted more of it. More of _her._ Would he smell of sweet lemons then? He wondered.

Sansa squirmed against him in her sleep and his cock stirred involuntarily. He cursed under his breath. He wanted nothing more than to stay and ravish her once again. He wanted to bury his cock inside her warmth and not ever leave, only relish in the pleasure she gave so effortlessly. Gods, he wanted to.

Against his will he pulled away from her, careful not to wake her up. He _should_ wake her up. She surely had classes to go to, and a lie to explain why she hadn’t returned to the common room for the night. But she was so peaceful like this. Nothing troubled her in her sleep.

Petyr climbed over her silently, letting the furs fall back to embrace her form, and began to gather his clothes that had been scattered around the room in their passionate love-making. He pulled on his underwear and slacks, feeling half hard from only the memory of her last night. By the time he was done dressing in yesterday’s clothes, a small bulge was showing through his pants but thankfully his cloak covered it just enough. He grunted low and looked at Sansa’s sleeping form again. _The things you do to me, my love…_

His mind drifted back to the night before and he felt his chest getting heavy with somewhat unknown feelings. She had really said it. She had really told him she loved him. And he had told her as well. It was so unreal and his mind had a hard time to accept it as truth. He wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t worthy of someone as pure and utterly perfect as Sansa. But it seemed she didn’t care if he was worthy or not. She wanted him anyway.

Was it guilt he was feeling? Guilt for wanting to possess her? Guilt for leading an angel down the paths of hell? Sansa didn’t deserve this life. She didn’t deserve any of the tragedies that had affected her. But Petyr hadn’t caused it. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He was helping her now. He was helping her survive in the cruel reality they lived in. And yet he could not get rid of the heaviness in his chest.

He sighed and walked over to the divan, crouching down so he was face to face with her. He lightly brushed a stray lock of hair away from her delicate face. He hadn’t told her the truth yesterday. He had lied once again, but he was certain this was something best kept a secret. He couldn’t possible burden her with what he had seen. What the boggart had turned into...

The images were etched into his mind. Burning reminders of his fear. His _weakness._ He could still see it in front of him.

Sansa’s hair was sprawled out around her, almost as if she was asleep. But she wasn’t. Not here. Not in the illusion of the boggart. Her eyes were half open, a painful mix of sadness and fear was displayed in the dulling blue. Thick crimson blood gushed out from her wounds still, despite the fact that she was long gone. He knew. He just knew nothing could be done. He could do nothing but watch.

Her skin was paler than usual. Greying. There was no life left in her but the bright blood, although she was quickly losing that too. The deep gash on her chest was the cause of it. But deep down Petyr knew _he_ was the real reason she was dead. Without him, she wouldn’t have ended up like this. He should have never let her be with him. Without him, her hair wouldn’t be sticky with crimson and her eyes would still smile with life. Now she was dead. Now there was no life left but his memory of her. It was a memory so painful that his vision was starting to blur.

“Petyr?” Sansa mumbled, still half asleep, and Petyr was instantly jerked back to reality. Sansa’s eyes slowly opened, still blue as she ocean and glimmering with light. Her hair was still clean and soft with no sign of blood. Her skin was still warm and smooth, glowing after a long night’s rest. Petyr studied her closely, feeling the need to reassure himself she wasn’t yet another illusion.

“Yes, my love?” he finally whispered and smiled softly, finding comfort in the fact that he could call her that now.He continued to brush his fingers along her temple, unsure if he had ever stopped the motion.

“Stay.” She sighed and snuggled her head into his hand. It took all the restraint he had to deny her.

“I can’t. It’s morning and, unfortunately, I must leave.” He said but did not rise. Sansa sighed softly and Petyr thought it was the purest sound possible.

“I wish you could stay.”

“I do too.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lightly swollen lips. He once again had to restrain himself and not be as greedy as he wanted.  She reciprocated the kiss with sleepy motions and yet with hungry need. It made it all the more difficult to pull away.

“Sleep.” He shouldn’t tell her to sleep. He should tell her to get up and go to her classes. But Petyr had never been the best at following the rules and it seemed she wasn't either. He stood and reluctantly started walking away, towards the door that appeared in its usual place.

“Petyr?” he stopped and turned to look at her. She was still lying on the divan but she had propped herself up a bit, now resting on her elbows while looking at him with somewhat worrisome eyes.

“Yes?”

“I would…” she fidgeted with her hands for a second before pressing them down in determination. A part of him took pride in her fierceness. She saw herself as weak and shy far too often. “I would like some moon tea. For myself to keep, I mean.”

Guilt washed over him again but he was still grateful that she seemed to have forgiven him. She shouldn’t have forgiven him. He didn’t deserve it. But she _had_ , and he was grateful.

“I’ll go get it.”

She smiled brightly and he knew that there was nothing better than to see her smile. He walked through the door, realizing that he never wanted her to feel anything other than happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, I love to hear it<3 
> 
> I also wanted to tell y'all that I have a coming chapter planned that I'm really excited about... More info later ;)


	32. Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO! Enjoy this mid-week treat loves<3  
> There will be a sight time jump to next chapter btw. I've dragged the weeks out so long in this fic, lmaooo

She groggily sat up, her eyes heavy with lingering sleep and a sweet ache between her legs. She quickly noticed a clear glass jar, filled with the fine blue powder she had asked Petyr to give her earlier, standing on a table. _Earlier?_ She dragged her hands over her face, realizing she had fallen asleep after he left.

She was late. She knew she was. _Terribly late_ in fact _._ People would ask questions and she had no answer to give them. She hadn't even returned to the common room for the night…

She climbed out of bed hurriedly and slipped her clothes on. What should she say? What _could_ she say? After curfew all students were required to be in their respective common rooms. The only exceptions were if you were ill and had to stay in the hospital wing or if Dumbledore had given you special permission.

Pulling her fingers through her tangled hair in an attempt to make herself presentable, she strode over to the divan again. She picked up the jar and couldn’t help the small smile that fell upon her face. Petyr trusted her with this. He hadn’t questioned her demand to have it. She smiled even brighter as she thought of what he had confessed to her the day before. _“I love you.”_

“I love you too.” She whispered to herself, repeating what she had answered him yesterday. Despite the fright she had experienced with the boggart, she was glad yesterday’s events had occurred. It made her feel much more secure on where she stood with Petyr. She truly felt like they were finally becoming equals.

She measured up the powder, the same amount that had been in the small bags Petyr had once given her, and quickly brewed it into bitter-smelling but sweet-tasting tea. The magical room had given her all the items required and took them back as she was done with them. She enchanted the jar, still almost completely filled with powder, to make it no bigger than her fingertip and she then put it in the pocket of her blazer. She would make it larger again when she returned to her dorm. Sipping her tea a little faster than usual, she contemplated how she could get out of her tricky situation.

She _shouldn’t_ have spent the night here with Petyr, she knew, but there was no point in dwelling. She was happy she had stayed with him, and that he had stayed with her for as long as he did. The only problem was how she could get away with it. Had Petyr come up with a lie? Surely he wasn’t in very much trouble anyway. He was a teacher and could move around in the castle freely. He had only missed one of his lectures and he could probably blame his absence on _urgent paperwork from the ministry_ or something.

She sighed, deciding she couldn’t stay cooped up in the room of requirement all day, and placed the empty tea cup down. Being away any longer would only spur more questions, wouldn’t it? She had to find Petyr and hopefully he could help her in some way. Perhaps he already had a convincing lie for her to tell? _Or perhaps not._ She cursed him under her breath for not leaving a note with instructions for her. She wanted to be independent, sure, but she couldn’t do _everything_ by herself. _I’ll get back at him for this someday…_ She thought with loving spite and the usual door appeared in the wall for her to exit through.

She snuck out quietly and shut the door, noticing how she wasn’t at the foot of the grand staircase where she had appeared all times before. Instead she was somewhere in the divination tower. She shrugged, deciding not to think much of it as the small door disappeared back into the brick wall. The room must’ve sensed that there were too many people by the usual exit and decided to let Sansa out in a more discreet way.

Sansa liked to think of the room as a female. It seemed as if she had a strong connection to the room already and in a strange way it was a mother figure. The room knew what Sansa needed and provided her with it; a kettle for brewing the moon tea, a bookcase to entertain her, a roaring fire to break the maddening silence, even a divan to make sure she would be comfortable both alone, and with Petyr. _In more ways than one…_ She thought and blushed.

Sansa was even thankful to the room for making the boggart appear in its coffin. Although it had been awful to experience her biggest fear, she knew what it was now. Petyr had been reluctant, even refusing to let her face it. Sansa didn’t know if it was because _he_ was afraid of the boggart or if he didn’t want _her_ to experience the terror of facing it.

She had a feeling that Petyr had somehow left out details about his own fear but she couldn’t blame him too much. It was difficult and painful to admit what you were most afraid of, especially for such a private man as Petyr. But she hoped he could tell her one day; _really tell her what he saw_. His answer before had been so vague and it ate away at her mind.

A loud giggle broke her out from her thoughts and she slipped behind a statue to hide in the dark shadows it cast. She hid by mere instinct. The laugh reminded her of the shrieking shack and how Ramsay and Myranda had enjoyed themselves as they tortured her. She closed her eyes in both anger and fear before hearing it again.

“Oh stop it you!” The voice exclaimed after a fit of obnoxious giggles. Sansa frowned. She was sure it wasn’t Myranda. The voice was far too deep for that. It was somewhat coarse and thick, making Sansa want to cough as she heard it, but it was definitely female. She tried to stay hidden as she moved closer to the voice. It was suddenly joined by a man’s.

“Never.” The man said, probably trying to sound seductive but failing miserably, at least in Sansa’s opinion. The man’s voice was deep as well, with a rough undertone making him sound like someone who had yelled a lot in his youth. Sansa peaked around the corner and found herself surprised to see no one there. She was sure the voices came from that direction.

Something then moved by the wall and Sansa had to hold back a gasp as she saw to whom the voices belonged to. Inside a large black frame hanging proudly on the far off wall stood the portrait of Florian the Fool embracing the Fat Lady, who was clearly not in her right landscape. Sansa watched as they kissed each other sloppily and groped at each other.

Sansa might have seen it as _cute new love_ if it wasn’t for the fact that Ser Florian was in fact married, and not to the Fat Lady. His wife, Jonquil, usually stood beside him in that very frame. Sansa had walked past them on several occasions in the past. But here Ser Florian was, without his wife, touching another woman in the most inappropriate of ways.

The Fat Lady moaned loudly into his mouth and Sansa almost wanted to gag. This was not a vision she would like to remember. How anyone could _like_ to be intimate with the Fat Lady was beyond her understanding. She was a hideous woman, or, portrait.

Sansa wanted to stop them. She wanted to walk up to them and demand that Ser Florian confesses to his wife how he betrayed her. She wanted to publically shame the Fat Lady for being so awful and deliberately be with another woman’s husband.  

The tale of Florian and Jonquil was old but beautiful. It was a tale Sansa had admired much as a child when she still dreamt of knights in shining armor to sweep her off her feet. Joffrey had ruined the dream, and now Florian had ruined the tale. He really was a fool.

She was just about to stride forward in anger when an idea crossed her mind. She stopped in her tracks, then swiftly turned around, leaving the portraits to their disgusting love making as she started to construct her plan. Perhaps she wouldn’t need Petyr’s help after all.

-

She stopped by the empty frame at the top of the stairs, looking around to see so that not too many people could see her, and knocked on the wood hard. After a few seconds of waiting, she knocked again. The Fat Lady then barged in from the side, settling in her rightful place in the middle of the frame.

“What do you want?!” she sneered harshly and tried to smooth down her tousled hair, much like Sansa had done just fifteen minutes earlier that day. A few buttons on her dress were undone but she did not seem to notice as she was busy glaring.

Sansa ignored the Fat Lady’s anger and simply stood calmly in front of her. “I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

The Fat Lady made a disgusted face and snorted in hatred. “Why would I do _anything_ for a Slytherin like you?”

Sansa hated the way the Fat Lady spoke to her but she still couldn’t contain the mischievous smirk that tugged up her lips. She leaned closer to the canvas and whispered into the Lady’s ear. “If you do not help me, I will tell everyone of your little affair with Ser Florian the Fool.”

The Lady tried to hide her shock but the slight widening of her eyes did not escape Sansa. The Lady then snorted forcefully. “Why should I care? It’s not my problem. It’s his.”

Sansa smirked again. “But think of what it would do to your reputation? You would be _the mistress…_ He would _hate_ you for ruining his marriage. He would never speak to you again, and neither would anyone else for that matter. You would be removed from your position as guard of Gryffindor Tower and you would be forever disgraced, perhaps placed in the dungeons with us Slytherins. Is that what you want? Such _humiliation?”_

The Fat Lady’s eyes were wide and her mouth was set into a thin line. She swallowed hard and looked around, no doubt checking so no one had heard what Sansa had said.

“Fine. What is it that you want?” she finally choked out angrily and Sansa smiled in triumph. Was it the Fat Lady’s fear of being around so many Slytherins that had convinced her? Sansa didn’t know exactly but it made no matter to her.  She leant in and whispered again.

“If anyone asks where I was last night. _Anyone._ You tell them I was in the Gryffindor common room with my sister. Can you do that for me?” She asked in a mockingly sweet tone and regarded the Lady’s face.

“I will _not_ lie to save you!” She then hissed. Sansa shook her head and tskd, knowing who had the advantage in this situation.

“Then I will _not_ keep my mouth shut to save you. This goes both ways, you know.” The Fat Lady clenched her jaw. Sansa continued, “If I go down, you go down with me.”

“Okay fine! I’ll do it. I’ll tell them…” The Fat Lady’s voice drifted off and her face turned red as she gave in. _To a Slytherin even…_

“Good. Then we have no issue here, do we?” The Lady frowned deeply and slowly turned her chin up to regain some dignity.

“What if someone asks why you came to speak to me now? In the middle of the day? I will not lie _again_.” She huffed and refused to meet Sansa’s gaze.

“Then you tell them I asked for discretion about my meeting with Arya.” The Lady glared at her and Sansa smirked. “That isn’t a lie.”

“Nevermind then…” The Lady’s eyes flickered between Sansa’s and to the wall, trying to avoid looking at her for too long. “May I leave now?”

The Lady’s voice was a squeak filled with humiliation. It was rather satisfying to Sansa. “Before you leave, fetch Arya if she is in there. Then we are done here.”

The Lady nodded and walked off briskly, no doubt wanting to avoid Sansa’s satisfied look.

The door swung open no more than a minute later to reveal Arya standing inside with a small frown of concern on her face. She regarded Sansa for a few seconds before stepping aside and letting her in.

The Gryffindor common room was decorated with vibrant shades of gold and red, almost making Sansa’s eyes hurt. The heat from the fireplace was nearly suffocating to someone used to the chilly and fresh dungeons like Sansa. She suddenly felt rather satisfied with being a Slytherin. She didn’t know if she would have survived even a year in this hot and clammy space.

“Are we alone?” Sansa asked low as she followed her little sister over to some leather armchairs placed in front of the fire. _Great,_ Sansa thought, _more heat._

“Nah, I think Lommy and Hot Pie are still in their dorms, someone else might be around too but most are in their classes, like Gendry.” Arya said and sat down, with Sansa following shortly after. “Joffrey and Ramsay isn’t here if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Sansa shook her head, although she was relieved to hear they weren’t here. She mumbled, “No. It’s not them…”

“Then what is it?” Arya was quick to read Sansa’s expression, knowing that she wanted to speak about something important. Sansa looked around, slightly apprehensive. Could someone hear them even if they were up in the dorms? It wasn’t likely but it was an inconvenience and a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

“Hold up.” She said and pulled out her wand from her knee high stocking. She found that to be a good place to keep it at times. With a small movement in the air she whispered, “Muffliato.”

To her delight, she felt a small force pulsate out and settle around them. She figured that it worked.

“What was that for?” Arya asked with a small frown.

“Just so no one can hear us… It’s a silencing spell.”

“It was from the book, wasn’t it?” Arya quickly leaned in and whispered, despite the fact that no one should be able to hear them after casting it.

“Yeah…” Sansa confessed, knowing what was coming next.

“Does that mean I can use spells from there too?”

“No.”

“What? But you used one!”

“I know, but it’s necessary, okay? Besides, I don’t even know what half of the spells in the book does.” That wasn’t true but it was the only way to steer Arya off the track a little bit. Arya might be rash and unpredictable sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. “It could be dangerous you know… Besides, you’ve already used one. That strange version of ‘ _reparo’,_ remember? We shouldn’t experiment any more than we already have.”

Arya huffed. “Fine, I won’t use any others… But can I at least use this one? We know it’s safe now, don’t we? I will only use it in emergencies!” Sansa narrowed her eyes. _I shouldn’t allow her... But will she truly listen? She knows it works so there is nothing really holding her back._

“Okay, but _only ‘_ muffliato’ _._ Is that clear?” Arya nodded with satisfaction, a mischievous grin on her face after successfully winning the argument. “Good. Now, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“It involves breaking some rules.” Arya’s face lit up even more with wickedness so Sansa quickly added, “ _potentially_. You might not have to do anything at all.”

“Just tell me what it is.”

“If anyone asks, I was with you last night.” Arya frowned in confusion. “In here. We were hanging out in the Gryffindor common room, playing wizarding chess and talking. And sleeping of course.”

Arya suddenly didn’t seem very keen on breaking any rules. She was clearly worried. “Why? Sansa, has something happened?”

“No, I…” she struggled a little with her words. “I’m just fine. The thing is, I never went back to my dorm last night. I needed some time alone, I…”

Arya grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently, staring at her with her large brown eyes. “Why didn’t you come to me? You know you could have… You can always come to me, not only to ask if I can lie to some bloody professors.” She chuckled lightly and then turned serious again.

Sansa smiled warmly, feeling hot tears starting to build up in her eyes. Those words meant so much to her. She knew she had Petyr with her, but Arya was different. Sansa had always known Arya cared for her and would protect her, they were kin after all, but she had spoken out right this time. She had offered not physical support, like she otherwise did, but emotional.

“Thank you…” she didn’t know what else to say. After all, she hadn’t really been alone all night. Far from it. _Imagine her face if she found out I spent the night curled up against professor Baelish…_ “So you’ll do it? You’ll tell anyone who asks that I was with you?”

“You shouldn’t even need to ask. Of course I’ll do it. I like seeing how many rules I can break without getting caught.” Arya winked and both of them giggled, still holding hands lovingly. After a time of comfortable silence, Arya spoke again. “Hey, do you know what was up with the Fat Lady? When she came up to the empty frame in my dorm to fetch me, she looked rather angry or… worried? I don’t know. I prefer not to look at her at all. She isn’t very pretty.”

Sansa stifled a laugh and leaned back in the armchair. Her hands stuck to the leather, clammy with sweat. Gods, it really was too hot in here. _No wonder so many Gryffindors have a temperament. They go insane from the heat._

“I’m afraid her bad mood is because of me. _You_ might like to break rules, but she doesn’t. Especially not for a Slytherin.”

Arya’s mouth hung agape in shock. “You told the Fat Lady to lie for you? And she agreed?”

Sansa shrugged. “Blackmail is a powerful thing and as I learned recently, even portraits have secrets.” A wicked smile fell upon her lips and it seemed to be contagious as it soon showed on her sister as well.

“I never would have thought of that.” Arya giggled, sharing Sansa’s amusement.

“Well, I can’t afford having any loose ends. If I was here last night, the guard of the Gryffindor common room should know, don’t you think?” Arya nodded and leaned back as well, slouching down into a comfortable position.

Sansa relaxed, feeling her face settling down to merely a small smirk instead of a smug grin. It felt nice to talk to her sister like this. She felt closer to Arya than ever before. Talking about breaking the rules together, and blackmailing an awful portrait, somehow worked for the both of them. That must be why ‘ _partners in crime’_ was a thing. To break rules with someone you needed trust. Complete trust. Sansa found that she had that with both Petyr and Arya now.

“Have you seen Ramsay recently?” Arya suddenly asked, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and straightened up quickly, her body tensing slightly.

“No. He’s not here, is he? You said he wasn’t here.” She said, gasping at the last word.

“He’s not! Don’t worry. He’s not here, or I wouldn’t have let you inside.” Sansa released a small breath, visibly relaxing back into the chair. “But his absence is the _problem…”_

Sansa frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well…” Arya huffed and bit off the nail on her middle finger. “He hasn’t been around a lot and, and I think Joffrey is mad at him or something.”

Sansa still didn’t follow. Why would Joffrey be mad at Ramsay of all people? Arya continued, “Apparently Ramsay hasn’t been in many classes the last two weeks and no one has reacted. Not even the teachers. He hasn’t been in the common room all nights either but Dumbledore doesn’t investigate like he’ll do with you for missing just one night.”

That was weird. Very weird. For a second, Sansa worried he was planning something, a trap to be able to torture her again, but she quickly dismissed that thought. The teachers would have done something about his absence if he was simply ditching class.

“But what about Joffrey? Why would he be mad?”

“So you haven’t noticed then…” Arya mumbled.

“What haven’t I noticed?”

“He’s all alone, Sansa. He eats alone, goes to class alone, sits in here alone. He seems to have lost the power he had. He has no minions anymore. Ramsay is off, doing god knows what, and that girl Myranda only wants to be with Ramsay. Even Margaery has started to drift away from him. I don’t know how long it will take until…” she didn’t need to finish that sentence. _Until he lashes out at me._

“I’ll be careful.” She assured her sister and reached forward to grab her hand again. Arya smiled carefully and squeezed her fingers around Sansa’s. _I have to ask Petyr if he knows something about this._ Sansa thought and saved it in her mind.

The door suddenly swung open and the chatter of teenage girls filled the common room that had been relaxingly quiet until now. Sansa sighed and tensed up a little, only because of the noise.

It was never this loud in the dungeons. The Slytherins spoke to each other, yes, but not far too loudly. Their voices were almost always calm and collected. It only became noisy when many people spoke. In the Slytherin common room they could all relax and be themselves. They could drink tea and read books, converse about everything and nothing. It was a place to drop the steel façade that many Slytherins wore out in the halls.

Although Sansa had avoided spending time with most of her housemates the past year, she appreciated the simple parts being a part of Slytherin.

The bang of the door closing brought Sansa back to reality and with a swift and discreet wave of her wand she broke the silencing spell. It would be terribly suspicious if they Gryffindor girls would see her and Arya talking but hear no words. Not that Sansa expected them to ever stop talking to each other for long enough to listen.

“What color was yours now again?” One of them asked.

“I told you! Blue and gold. It matches my eyes perfectly.”

“You’re right!” A third girl said and joined that conversation. Sansa looked over them quickly and then turned to Arya.

“I should go.” Arya nodded with a smile as goodbye and a wink as reassurance. But as Sansa stood up, the chatter died out. She looked up and saw all of the girls looking her over with narrowed eyes, piercing with judgment.

“What are you doing here?” A brunette asked, took a small step forward and crossed her arms over her chest. The rest of the group of six did the same shortly after. _So, the brunette is the leader then I suppose._

“She’s my sister.” Arya said, before Sansa had time to respond, and was quickly at her side with arms looped.

“Why would you bring her in here?” The brunette never moved her gaze from Sansa. She kept them fixed.

“As I said; _she’s my sister._ You dumb or something?” Arya snapped. Once, Sansa might have scolded Arya for saying that but she didn’t care now. In fact, she had to stifle a laugh as she saw the brunette’s face flash with anger. All the girls’ eyes turned to Arya, some filled with shock and some with annoyance. It looked like the leader was trying to come up with something to say back but she quickly gave up and just rolled her eyes with a huff.

Sansa found that rather funny too. _Nothing to say? Pathetic._

“Whatever.” The eyes returned to Sansa who had an eyebrow raised without fully realizing. “It’s a shame the rules don’t forbid people like you to enter.”

“People like me?” She asked in her smoothest voice. _They think they can frighten me? Their words mean nothing. I’ve been through far worse._

“Slytherins.” A blonde girl quipped and regarded Sansa’s full body, eyes drifting down and up again.

“My house doesn’t need a rule to keep _people like you_ out.” Sansa said calmly, delighted to see three of the girls flinch a little. “We’ve kept you people out anyways. No outsider has entered our common room for more than seven decades.”

The brunette scoffed and the others soon joined her, making small noises of annoyance. However, some did not seem as confident as the leader. “Again, _whatever._ Perhaps your isolation is the reason you don’t have a date to the Christmas ball?”

Sansa couldn’t stop the frown that her face made. _Christmas ball? Already?_ She had lost track of time completely the past few weeks and she only now realized that it was indeed Christmas soon. Just about two weeks left.

“Thought so.” The brunette said, jerking Sansa out of her thoughts. She desperately wanted to straighten her back and say; _“Sadly I haven’t been able to catch any of the young boys’ attention. But I have, however, managed to catch myself a man working both in the ministry and at this school. Perhaps you know professor Baelish? Nevermind, I’ll be sure to mention this conversation the next time I see him. But I have to warn you, he doesn’t like it when people insult what is **his.** ”_

She could, of course, never say that out loud. With a burning anger boiling deep beneath her cool façade, she accepted that it would do no good in fighting with these girls. They weren’t worth any more of her time. But Arya was not so easily calmed.

“She doesn’t need a date because all the boys will be drooling after _her_ at the ball! You’ll be the ones left behind!” Arya yelled and the leader placed a hand on her chest as she gasped.

Arya was about to stride forward and say something else, probably something far more insulting, but Sansa stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She leaned forward and whispered in a voice loud enough for all in the room to hear, “They’ve humiliated themselves enough.”

She quickly looped arms with her sister again and walked towards the door with a smirk on her lips. _“All the boys will be drooling after her at the ball”._ Did Arya really think that? She smirked wider and squeezed Arya’s arm. She looked up at Sansa with questioning eyes.

The girls muttered something inaudible behind them but Sansa paid them no mind. She only smiled at her sister and mouthed _‘thank you’_ as the door opened for them. A tall shadow was suddenly there and professor McGonagall’s warm and yet terribly stern eyes looked down at Sansa.

“There you are. Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you.” She said calmly and glanced down at Arya. “And you too while we’re at it.”

They both nodded, feeling safe as they had a perfectly planned lie to back them both up. Not that Arya had done anything wrong, or at least to Sansa’s knowledge.

They followed McGonagall down to the eagle statue that was the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Sansa tensed for a second as she remembered why she had been here the first time. _Dementor…_ She pushed the thought away as suddenly as it had arrived.

“Lemony drops.” McGonagall said the new password and both the Stark girls stepped onto the stairs to bring them up.

At the top, the great oak door opened magically, revealing Dumbledore standing behind his desk, murmuring low to a man with his back turned to the sisters. It didn’t take more than a second for Sansa to recognize that it was Petyr who was standing there.

As she stopped in the doorway to wait for Dumbledore to invite her in, she took the opportunity to let her gaze travel over Petyr’s sharp angular shoulders and perfectly cut nape. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him and just feel him. He wouldn’t even have to embrace her back for her to be satisfied.

But while Sansa waited, Arya kept walking in with a silly aura of arrogance around her. Arya hadn’t become too fond of Dumbledore since he often had to order her up here. He was nice to her of course, like he was to everyone, but Arya found it unnecessary to drag herself up here just to get a light warning and maybe some detention.

“What is it now?” Arya groaned and pulled a chair from the side of the room and over to the desk before slouching down beside Petyr, who was looking at her with a quirked eyebrow and an amused look on his face. Arya looked up at him, made a face saying ‘ _what the hell do you want?’_ and looked over to Dumbledore. _Perfect acting. Just like nothing is wrong._ Sansa thought and almost smiled at her sister.

“That will be all, Baelish.” Dumbledore said after glancing down at Arya for a second and gave Petyr a quick nod of his head, which Petyr returned.

“Headmaster.” He said and Sansa could hear the smirk in his voice. He nodded down at Arya and then turned, not missing a beat as he met Sansa’s gaze. He knew she was there from the second she got there. She didn’t know exactly how he knew that. Intuition perhaps. It just seemed like he expected her to stand there.

His eyes quickly swept over her body and she had to suppress a shiver. The way Petyr looked at her was far more pleasant than the way those Gryffindor girls had.

He walked towards her with quick and secure strides, smug confidence surrounding him, and she did a small curtsy while mumbling, “Professor.”  Sansa was sure Arya rolled her eyes at that. But she didn’t do it for Arya, clearly. She did it for Petyr, wondering if he imagined her going down lower and lower until she was on her knees before him, between his thighs to suck his...

“Miss Stark.” Petyr’s voice interrupted her little vision and she met his eyes. To her surprise, he had stopped in front of her, slightly to the side, instead of walking past her like she had assumed he would. She met his gaze and asked a question with her eyes. He then leaned in slightly, not enough for her liking, and spoke.

“Sunday evening, 8 o’clock, room of requirement.” She heard him say loud and clear. She heard him say it, but his mouth did not move with it. His mouth seemed to make different words entirely. It didn’t make any sense to her. She stared at him, wide-eyed for a second, and nodded to regain her composure. Petyr smirked wider, probably reveling in the fact that she had been speechless.

He swept past her elegantly, his cloak brushing against her leg, and as soon as he was out, Dumbledore gestured for her to sit down in an empty chair beside Arya and asked if she wanted a lemon drop. _What just happened?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts! I love to hear it<3 (read it? lol)
> 
> So much juicy info in this chapter; Joffrey, Ramsay, Petyr and CHRISTMAS BALL! Yup, it's like the Yule ball in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire but I made the Christmas ball to be every year ;) I just desperately needed a ball tbh (++++ there's some huge shit coming up! Or at least imo XD I hope you all enjoy that when the time comes)
> 
> Lots of Slytherin pride this chapter too... oops ;) well, I do love my house so I hope y'all don't mind
> 
> Ugh, yesss. I feel like I have a nice plan for the next few chapters so that's a huge relief (I can finally move the plot forward some more!) I'm so excited tbh but I have to get all my plans down on paper too XD
> 
> **Shoutout to some inspiration for this particular chapter!:**
> 
> **Kiltyr** here on AO3! Thank you for inspiring me to bring in Florian and Jonquil! You did it indirectly with your lovely fic **Westerosi Time Travellers** ;) so thank youuu for just being amazing!  <333
> 
>  **slytherin-headcanons** on Tumblr! Thank your for making great inspiration for me! As a Slytherin myself I find it all very interesting. I remember seeing a headcanon that was about secrets around the castle and you can get anywhere if you use them as blackmail, even portraits have secrets and you can get into the gryffindor common room ;) This was a CLEAR inspiration for me this chapter so thank you!!!


	33. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some time to finish this chapter but now it's finally done! After this there will probably be one more chapter and then it's time for the Christmas ball :)
> 
> Some important info for this chapter:   
> DADA is short for Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
> I've mentioned this before but I thought I should clarify: Muffliato and Levicorpus are spells created by Snape in canon but I gave them to Petyr in this fic, lol. (sorry not sorry)
> 
> WARNING: So much fluff, holy fuck

The last days of the week passed quickly. Sansa spent most of her time in the Slytherin common room or in class, where she had actually started making an effort to get better grades. It would do her no good if Cersei decided to let Joffrey punish her for insolence and poor efforts during Christmas break.

However, Sansa had avoided Potions almost the entire week out of fear. Not fear of Snape, as he seemed to keep some distance from both her and Petyr recently, but fear of Joffrey. He had officially started in her class two weeks before and she had not attended since. She had fully expected to fail in Potions because of that but luck seemed to be with her as Joffrey’s potions classes had been separated from hers after an _unfortunate_ accident in the end of the week.

His cauldron had exploded and managed to permanently char the desk, as well as destroy one of Snape’s cloaks. He had gotten away with a warning, probably thanks to Cersei, and then moved to a smaller class where Snape could keep more control. Joffrey was of course told that he was moved to a more advanced class, similarly to the way Myranda had been moved from Sansa’s DADA class by Petyr. 

Not only that, but Sansa had managed to avoid both Joffrey and Myranda around the castle entirely, only occasionally catching some burning gazes from across the great hall at meal times. It was unsettling but, thankfully, often interrupted by an entirely different gaze that burned her skin just as much, only in a more pleasant way. Petyr’s watchful eyes never left her for longer than necessary. Perhaps he couldn’t help but look at her after hearing about the lie she had told Dumbledore.

She was sure all the teachers had now heard the tale of how _Sansa Stark_ had snuck into the Gryffindor common room one night and not been caught until Dumbledore had interrogated her. It was not often that students got away with wandering the halls at night, mostly thanks to Snape doing rounds, and even Dumbledore had raised an eyebrow when Sansa and Arya told him that they had been together. After the Fat Lady’s testimony, which both Stark sisters had certainly enjoyed hearing, Dumbledore had given them both a warning and send them on their way. He probably would have given Sansa detention if it wasn’t for the fact that she blamed her actions on nightmares from the shrieking shack.

Dumbledore was a sympathetic man and as Headmaster he regretted that Sansa had been attacked in the first place. It was his job to keep his students safe and perhaps he felt guilty for what she had endured.

Sansa knew Petyr was proud of her after such a grand deceit and she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about any of it. Sometimes it was necessary to play with someone’s emotions to make a believable lie. She had played them well.

Though she had spent most of her time alone the rest of the week, she had attended some of the quidditch practices to watch Arya fly with the Nimbus 2001. Sansa herself hadn’t played since the shrieking shack due to madam Pomfrey’s warnings and a simple lack of interest and so Arya had been given permission to use the broom when she wanted, much to her delight. Sansa only hoped that Petyr didn’t mind, not that she expected him to either. He seemed strangely fond of Arya.

The Slytherin team had replaced Sansa without much arguing although they had, somewhat unexpectedly, been somber about doing so. Some had come up to her as she watched Arya play and told her she was missed in the team. Sansa couldn’t exactly understand why. She wasn’t incredibly good, no better than their current seeker, but their words had easily put a warm and thankful smile on her face.

Sunday finally arrived and Sansa was sitting on her bed in the empty dorm, fidgeting nervously. Petyr had asked her to meet him in the room of requirement, _their room,_ at 8. The way he had told her however, was confusing. She had started to think she had imagined the whole thing in Dumbledore’s office but then, after leaving the interrogation that day, Arya had asked about her special classes. Sansa had been confused at first. She _knew_ she hadn’t told anyone about her special classes with Petyr. It had all started as a lie to get Snape off his back, after all.

Arya had then explained, with a _‘duh’_ expression on her face, that professor Baelish had reminded her as he walked out to not forget her special classes. It was then Sansa realized that both Dumbledore and Arya had indeed heard something entirely different than she. It was clever of him, but also stupid.

Now, ten minutes left until she was supposed to be in the room of requirement, she was starting to worry about exactly _how_ she would get there. Petyr had always been the one to make the entrance appear, she had only managed to reveal an exit on her own.

She could still go out and look for the room because curfew was later on the weekends, but where would she look? It wasn’t like she could go into the DADA classroom or Petyr’s office where she knew the entrance _could_ appear. But should she simply stroll around aimlessly then?

She checked the time; _19:55._ Five minutes left. Just as she was starting to lose hope on even getting to meet Petyr at all that evening, a low rumble reached her ears. She looked over to the wall right beside the large window to the lake, and saw the grey bricks changing around to form the familiar door. _Is Petyr doing that, or is it me?_ She thought with a smile and headed towards it, quickly walking inside before anyone else entered the dorm.

As soon as she emerged into the light on the other side of the tunnel she spotted Petyr. He was casually sitting on the divan, his legs crossed and a glass of arbor gold in his elegant hand. The slightly dim light cast shadows on his smirking face and Sansa smiled at the sight.

His teacher cloak was already removed and the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up to his elbows. She made her way towards him, not able to contain her smile, and he somehow smirked wider.

“You had me waiting until last minute, sweetling.” He murmured and took a sip, uncrossing his legs as she got closer. His lap looked more than welcoming to her and she was sure he intended just that.

“Well, your surprise-invitation earlier this week failed to mention how I was supposed to get here.” She straddled him and leaned in for a kiss. He tasted delightfully sweet from the wine.

He chuckled when she pulled away and placed his free hand on her waist, holding her securely. “If you need the room enough, it will come to you, love. That’s the way it works. As for the invitation, didn’t you like it?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “A little warning would have done me good.”

“Ah, perhaps, but wasn’t it genius? It’s a new spell I’ve been working on; speaking two things at the same time at different people.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You give yourself too much credit. First of all, it gave me a shock and I intend on having revenge for that. Second of all, I could only hear what you said to _me._ Arya heard an entirely different thing, as did Dumbledore. You’re lucky my sister wasn’t too concerned about my complete confusion as she asked me about _special classes_ when we left Dumbledore’s office.”

Petyr smiled with an apologizing and almost sad glint in his eyes, but still with playfulness. “You think it needs more work?”

She nodded and kissed him softly, forgiving him easily as there wasn’t really anything to forgive. “A little. And can you please tell me the next time you’re about to use me as your guinea pig so I can prepare for whatever experiments you’re working on?”

He chuckled, the little sadness over his minor mistake forgotten. “I’ll be sure to mention it next time.”

He placed the half-empty glass of wine down on the table beside him and let his hands caress her form. She giggled when he swept over a particularly ticklish spot and he gave her hips a gentle squeeze before roaming upwards. He let each finger dip in by her waist and travel up to her ribs, only stopping right under her breast.

He smirked with curiosity in his gaze as he looked up at her. “And what is this?”

He traced the outline of the hard rectangular object in her blazer and she cheekily reached inside to grab it. She held it out in front of his face for a second and then to the side to be able to see his reaction. He rolled his eyes and sighed but a soft smile tugged his lips.

“My old book?” he chuckled and looked up at her again.

She smiled and nodded vigorously. “I thought we could keep it in the bookcase. It’s far too risky to keep it underneath my mattress. Who knows what could happen if someone found these spells.”

She climbed off him and walked over to the bookcase that stood against the wall by the fire. Only now did Sansa notice that the room was a bit smaller than it had been the other times. It was more homely now, like a living room of a house, and there were even deep green curtains hanging by the windows, even though they weren’t real windows and only illusions. She smiled, liking the new style.

She put the book on the middle shelf and before she had the time to turn around, Petyr’s arms wrapped around her and he placed a gentle kiss on her neck. “Risky? Oh but I’m sure you could handle it well if someone found out about it.” he teased.

“No.” she giggled and leaned back against him.

“Why not? You handled your last problem rather well I heard.” He husked by her ear and spun her around. He looked mischievous and clearly wanted to learn more. “Your sister is one thing, but how did you get that god-awful portrait to tell your little lie?”

She smirked, matching the smugness he often displayed in his features. “Blackmail.”

“Blackmail?” He looked surprised but no less intrigued. “And what, might I ask, has the Fat Lady done that could be used against her?”

Sansa pretended to contemplate whether or not she should tell him but after he squeezed her against his body a little tighter, she relented with a smile. “An affair with Florian the Fool. I told her that if words of this came out, she would be sent down to the dungeons and spend her time with us Slytherins. Let’s just say she wasn’t very keen on that.”

“Florian the Fool is a fitting name I see. But you…” Petyr smiled. “You, my love, have outdone me in my own game. I’m afraid I’ve created a monster of deceit.”

Sansa smiled and looked down shyly at Petyr’s praise. “It was luck. I was on my way to find you when I saw them together.”

Petyr tilted her head up by her chin and he kissed her greedily, his lips caressing hers with need before abruptly stopping, making her moan as he pulled away. “Luck may have given you the information but cunning gave you the lie. It was masterfully done, my love.”

He kissed her again and pulled her flush against him, his arms tightly wrapped around her waist. She melted into his touch, savoring the sweet mint taste of him and let her hands comb through his hair. Eventually she had to pull away from him and catch her breath as she didn’t get quite enough air through only her nose. She rested her forehead against his and inhaled his scent while her fingers traced his jawline to feel the coarse stubble that was starting to grow there.

“Don’t you want to ask me something?” she said coyly after a while and Petyr looked at her with intrigue once again. He raised an eyebrow in question and she smiled. “It’s Christmas soon…”she began, waiting for him to catch on.

“And there will be a ball, like every year.” He finished her sentence and sighed, a sad smile on his lips. “You know I can’t go with you, as much I want to.”

“I know but it could be secret… No one has to know you’re my partner that evening.” She said and he grinned devilishly at her suggestion.

“You are certainly the cleverest witch I’ve met. Very well then.” He kissed her nose and she frowned at him a little, pouting with her lips. He breathed out a laugh. “What is it?”

“You have to _ask_ me.”

He smiled warmly and stepped away from her, only maintaining contact with her hand. He held it gently and bent down to kiss her knuckles. Still bowed down over her hand, only his eyes rising up to meet hers, he asked. “Lady Sansa, would you give me the honor of accompanying you to the Christmas ball?”

She blushed at the formality of it but gladly played along. “I would be delighted, Lord Baelish.”

He placed another kiss on her hand and then quickly straightened to cradle her head and kiss her lips fiercely. “Now, I do believe we have a problem.” He muttered against her lips.

“What problem?” She asked, confused.

“You do no longer visit Hogsmeade, am I correct?” He said and swiped his thumb in caressing circles over her cheek.

“Yes…”

“Then you don’t have a gown I should assume.” He kissed her quickly and she realized he was right. _Oh gods, where am I going to get a gown?_

“Oh.” Was all she could think of to say as her mind went through alternatives. _I could ask Margaery if she has one, or if she could pick one out for me. No, I don’t have the money to pay her. I would have to borrow from her. Or Myrcella maybe? She isn’t that much smaller than me, is she? A transfigured gown won’t last all evening…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Petyr’s husky voice. “Then I shall have one made for you.”

“What?” she pulled back a little to look at him and he wore the most satisfied grin imaginable. She could only gape at him, her head moving from side to side. “No, Petyr I can’t pay you back for it.”

“You needn’t pay me back. Your love is all I require.” He stroked a lock of her hair away from her face and his eyes wandered over her with adoration.

 “But Petyr, you already have all of my love.” She sighed and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to buy me anything, and having one _made_ would be far too expensive! I can borrow one from Margaery…”

Petyr cut her off again. “You shall have nothing but the best. Finance is not an issue, surely you realized that when I gave you the Nimbus 2001? I have far too much money on my accounts and I spend far too little of it. I need someone to spoil.” He chuckled and kissed her hand again.

“But…” she tried to protest but to no avail.

“Speak no more of it.” He quickly said and started leading her towards a door that had suddenly appeared in the wall.

“Now? You’ll get me a gown now?” she asked with hesitation and he chuckled again.

“When else? The ball is next week and we won’t have enough time on any of the weekdays.” They walked through the door and almost immediately emerged in his office. With a quick wave of his hand she felt the light, almost undetectable, wave of muffliato being cast.

“But it’s after curfew soon.” The time was almost 9pm.

“Curfew hasn’t stopped you before, has it?”

“No, but no stores in Hogsmeade will be open at this time.” It was stupid of her to keep trying to find excuses but clearly Petyr would have none of it anyway.

“I won’t be taking you to Hogsmeade. I know a better place.” He opened up a large mahogany wardrobe in the back of the room and pulled out a black coat. With almost no effort, he had dressed her in it, although it was a little big. The arms were too long and wide, the waist not even touching her body and it reached just to her knees. Petyr wasn’t a large man, actually rather slender and short, but her form was simply too different to fit in the garment.

She looked up and Petyr had already put on a similar one, fitting him much better however. It was tailored to perfection and suited him down to every last thread. It was simple and black and yet the details gave it so much life. The shoulders were squared professionally, the buttons were sleek with a stripe engraved on the edges, the collar and lapel were elegantly shaped to frame the angular features of his face. But the strangest thing was the fact that she recognized it wasn’t for wizards.

“It’s muggle clothing.” She said, astounded, and Petyr chuckled as he took out his wand from a pocket.

“Your powers of observation serve you well, love. Yes, it’s muggle clothing. We wouldn’t want to stand out, would we?”

“You’re taking me to a muggle place?” she asked as he cast a quick spell on the borrowed coat and it instantly formed itself after her body. It fit her snugly but she didn’t look nearly as well put-together as Petyr. Still, she was decent.

“Yes. I find that they often do the work more properly. There’s so much more detailing in muggle works. Wizards and witches tend to go for the quick and easy route to creating a garment while muggles do everything by a precise hand.” He said and stepped closer to her, gazing deep into her eyes. He smirked. “Now, as I promised; a warning.”

She frowned. “Another experiment of yours?”

“Not entirely an experiment. I’ve used this spell on myself a few times, but you’ll feel a little strange.” He said and gently placed the tip of his wand on her forehead. He murmured something inaudible and a shiver coursed through her body. Her vision blurred for a second and her shoulders stiffened. As fast as the feeling had arrived, it was gone and she looked at Petyr once more. “Not too bad.”

He led her to the open wardrobe and placed her in front of the mirror in the inside of one of the doors. She gasped at her reflection.

Her hair had turned into a shining raven black and her eyes were a deep chocolate brown. Her skin looked paler although she wasn’t sure if it had changed or if it only looked that way in contrast to her hair. She looked strikingly different and yet not much had been transformed.

“If, for whatever reason, someone would see us they wouldn’t recognize you. When someone speaks of a raven haired beauty, the name Sansa Stark doesn’t exactly come to mind.” Petyr explained and placed his hands on her shoulders from behind.

“Do _you_ recognize me?” She asked while observing herself more closely.

“How could I not? I’ve spent countless hours looking at you. Although I must say, I prefer your natural look.” He jested.

She giggled and turned around in his arms. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips once more before taking her arm in his. “Shall we?” he asked with a smirk.

“We shall.” She answered, with some hesitation, and after he cast a quick concealment charm over them both, they made their way through Hogwarts dark hallways and out into the early night.

When they had finally managed to get out from Hogwarts grounds without getting caught, Petyr held on to her as he apparated them away. Apparition was the equivalent to the muggle fiction-idea of teleportation. It was advanced magic, only an available way of travel for those with a license, and only areas without magical wards could be reached through this method. Only people with great authority could apparate in and out of certain warded areas, such as the headmaster that could apparate in and out of Hogwarts.

They arrived at the destination Petyr had decided with a _‘pop’_ and Sansa was relieved to feel solid ground on her feet, despite the fact that it had only taken a second to travel the distance.

 “Where are we?” she asked, mumbling slightly with dizziness. They were obviously in an alley but cars and other city-noises could be heard not far off.

“London.” Petyr said and placed a hand on her slender fingers that were curled around his arm. He led her out to the streets, lights blinding her for a second as her eyes adjusted. Despite the fact that it was soon 10pm, the city was still crowded with both vehicles and people. _Holiday rush,_ she thought.

Petyr guided her with ease around the city as she explored her surroundings the best she could without leaving his side. She had never visited London before, despite the fact that her father had travelled a lot around England for the ministry.

It was beautiful. Lights sparkled in the dark, a sheen layer of frost covered the ground and crunched beneath her feet, the chill air bit her cheeks with awakening freshness, and sweet smells filled her lungs from numerous bakeries around them. Petyr, familiar with the city, pointed out things for her as they passed. He told her what streets they were on, what small boutiques he enjoyed, where he had met acquaintances of his, and with each explanation came a story to go with it. Sansa eagerly soaked it all up, amazed of how much he knew about the smallest of things.

They finally stopped outside a smaller store with a large window that displayed both suits and dresses, all breathtakingly elegant. Sansa eyed them carefully, noticing what Petyr meant when he spoke about properly-made muggle clothing. Beside the window was a double oak door with a sign over saying _‘London’s tailoring and creation’._

She looked over to Petyr, her eyes once again saying “ _I don’t need anything…”_ He only smirked and walked her inside with confident strides. The little bell by the door jingled as they entered and it took no more than a second before a woman’s voice called from the back.

“I’ll be right out.”

Sansa took the time to look around and noticed that the store was not too different from Petyr’s office at Hogwarts. Most of the furniture was of dark wood with carved details, a rich and musky scent filled the store and the lights were comfortably dimmed. It was intimate, welcoming. Fabrics of all colors and textures were displayed by the wall next to the window and mannequins were showing off elegant coats, dresses and suits by the counter further back in the room. An older lady soon walked out from a room in the back, maybe in her 50s or 60s, and her face lit up as she spotted them.

“Helen.” Petyr greeted and stepped forward to kiss the lady’s cheek.

“Petyr, how lovely to see you again.” The lady, who was apparently named Helen, said and then looked at Sansa with kind yet questioning eyes. Petyr quickly caught the notion.

“This is Alayne, my niece.” He said and Sansa smiled warmly in greeting. Petyr had mentioned her alias was _Alayne Stone_ when they walked over here. She quite liked the name.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you.” She said and Helen nodded.

“You too, dear.” Helen smiled and looked at Petyr. “Now, what can I do for you both?”

With a satisfied grin on his face he looked at Sansa. “Alayne requires a gown for a holiday ball next week. I trust you can provide what we are seeking.”

Helen nodded and let her studying eyes wander over Sansa’s body before looking at Petyr again. “Custom or standard made?”

Before Sansa could open her mouth and say _‘standard’,_ Petyr spoke. “Custom.”

Helen nodded again and smiled knowingly. “Only the best… Now, let’s take your measurements dear.”

Helen led Sansa around the counter and into the room she had been in before. Petyr followed closely behind, nudging Sansa forward with an encouraging hand on the small of her back. She was led up on a round podium in the center of the small room and Helen walked over to some drawers to start pulling out her measurement bands and sewing tools.

Sansa stood awkwardly still, not knowing what to do, and Petyr then stepped up beside her. He held her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She was disappointed to not feel his lips on hers again but then remembered that she was supposed to be his niece. “You’ll be fine.” He whispered in her ear.

He pulled away, stepped down from the podium, and walked over to Helen. He whispered something in the Lady’s ear and she nodded in response, a small ‘hmm’ on her lips.

“I have an errand to run. I’ll be back in no time.” He then said in a normal tone, clearly addressing Sansa now. She wanted to protest, she wanted to grab onto his arm and never let go. She shot him a glance saying “ _don’t you dare leave me here!_ ” but he simply smiled in response, little to no remorse for abandoning her.

“I’ll take good care of Alayne.” Helen answered with an assuring tone but didn’t turn from drawers her hands were still buried in. Petyr exited with a few quick strides and Sansa sighed quietly. If she hadn’t been afraid of making a scene, she would have gone after him, but shyness overcame her and she simply stood frozen in her place.

“He’s a peculiar man, isn’t he? Leaves you all alone with an old woman you don’t even know?” Helen suddenly said and turned to Sansa with a smile. “Don’t worry, dear. I can tell he cares for you a great deal and I don’t doubt he will return as quickly as possible.”

“Okay…” Sansa mumbled, not being able to think about anything else. She wasn’t usually so shy around strangers but maybe that was because she often had the opportunity to disappear into the background of the spotlight-attracting Lannisters. Now however, she was forced to be all alone and she dreaded having a conversation with this woman, despite the fact that she seemed nice. Small-talk just wasn’t Sansa’s cup of tea anymore. At least not with people she didn’t know.

Helen then walked up to the podium and started to unbutton Sansa’s coat with quick and deft fingers. Sansa stiffened a little, hoping that Helen wouldn’t notice that reaction. She repeated calming words in her head, realizing that it was silly to be so nervous. If Petyr trusted this woman then so could she. Just as she was starting to relax, Helen pulled the coat off her and something clattered onto the floor. Startled, Sansa looked down only to see her wand had fallen out from the inside of the coat and now lay by her feet.

Helen’s gaze was drawn downwards as well and her eyes widened when she spotted the wand. Sansa desperately tried to come up with a reasonable excuse to having such a strange object on her but nothing would come to mind. She clenched her fists in nervousness as Helen bent down to pick the wand up. _Oh no…_

“Don’t worry about that!” She blurted out and snatched the wand into her hand before Helen’s outstretched fingers could touch it. Helen blinked in surprise and straightened up to look at Sansa. She opened her mouth to say something but was quickly interrupted by another outburst.

“It’s for a school play! For Christmas! Uhh… I’m the wizard…” Sansa’s voice drifted off and she looked down to the floor while writhing her hands nervously. _That was good… that was a good lie... Wasn’t it?_

Helen’s laughter shocker her and she snapped her eyes up to look at the woman. “Oh dear, you needn’t fret so! I am well aware of your magical abilities.”

Sansa was stunned. “You... you do?”

“Oh yes. My late husband was a squib. He never stopped complaining about how unfair it was that his parents were magical and he wasn’t.” Helen said with a chuckle and held out her measuring band in front of Sansa.

“I see…” Sansa mumbled as Helen wrapped the band around her waist, whispered the number to herself and quickly wrote them down on a sticky note that was attached on her arm.

“But that was a good lie, I’ll tell you that. Especially considering you were under some pressure. You have some of your uncle’s cunning in you.” Helen said while measuring around Sansa’s bum, chest and arms. “I’m not surprised you’re a Slytherin.”

Sansa was about to ask Helen how she knew she was a Slytherin but with a  quick glance down she remembered she was still in her uniform and the Slytherin badge was sewn on the left chest pocket of her blazer.

Helen quickly measured her height and arm length before she walked back to the drawers. She left her measuring tools and put the sticky note on the bench. “Is it all done?” Sansa asked hesitantly.

“Hmm, not quite.” Sansa didn’t know what else was left to do. It seemed done to her but maybe Helen would hold fabric swatches against her skin to see what worked with her complexity? Tailors and designers did that, right?

Helen disappeared back out in the store and Sansa stood awkwardly in place on the podium, unsure if she was to follow or not. Helen returned a minute later, holding differently shaded black fabric draped over her arm, and waved for Sansa to follow her. _Black? For a Christmas ball?_ It seemed odd but Sansa didn’t really mind. The fact that Petyr would _buy her a dress_ was already more than she could ever ask for.

“In here, dear.” Helen said and opened a door to… _a changing room?_

“Oh.” Sansa said as Helen closed the door and draped one of the fabrics over it so that Sansa could reach it from the other side.

“Try this on, please. Don’t worry, I won’t peek. Just tell me if you need help with the zipper.”

Sansa pulled down the fabric carefully and then realized it was in fact a whole dress. She mumbled a ‘sure’ and started to remove her uniform, slightly confused. Why would she need to try this on?

It was easy to slip into it however, the soft fabric easily glided over her body and the zipper wasn’t too hard to reach over her shoulder. “Umm, I’m done.” She said and Helen opened the door.

The lady’s eyes swept over her form intensely, examining every inch. “Perhaps we should try something different… I’m afraid this might be a bit too revealing for your uncle’s taste.”

Helen chuckled and closed the door again before hanging another dress over the edge. Sansa realized she hadn’t even looked at herself in the mirror and now that she did, she saw the plunging neckline. It was far too low cut for her, almost reaching down to her belly button. The dress was tight all the way, hugging her breasts and bum snugly, and the skirt stopped halfway down her thighs. She smirked, thinking about what Petyr would say if he saw her in this. He would probably like it, but only if they were alone. He wouldn’t like anyone else seeing her like this.

Then of course, Helen believed that Petyr was Sansa’s uncle and in that case, the dress was completely inappropriate. _But why do I even need to try on a dress? To see how it fits? Probably. That has to be it._ She told herself.

The dress was quickly off and she put the other on, feeling the same silky touch on her skin. This time she looked in the mirror as soon as it was on and her eyes widened at the sight of her reflection. It fit her perfectly.  The sweetheart neckline framed her collarbones and the bodice was tight and fanned out in flowy waves to form the skirt by her waist. The hem was decorated with detailed lace and ended right above her knee. It was simple but not plain. With a smile on her face she opened the door and watched Helen break into a smile as well.

“Oh you look lovely Alayne.” She said, clasping her hands in front of her as her eyes swept up and down to study Sansa.

“Thank you. I absolutely love it.” Sansa said and fanned her fingers out on the soft skirt. She wished she could keep it. The bell by the door suddenly jingled and Helen’s smile widened.

“Oh, wonderful! Let’s get you out dear.” She ushered Sansa out into the main room of the store while grinning proudly. _Shouldn’t I change back to my robes?_ The protest was on the tip of Sansa’s tongue but Helen spoke before she could.

“Just in time.” She said happily to Petyr who had just entered. He brushed a few glittery snowflakes off his shoulders before his eyes settled on the women. His gaze immediately darkened at the sight of Sansa and she fought a shiver as his mouth curled into a wicked smirk. He quickly recovered however and his expression softened, looking at her more appropriately, as an uncle should look at his niece.

“Ah, you’ve succeeded once again Helen. My niece looks marvelous.” He said, with a genuine smile, and stepped forward to grasp Sansa’s hand and kiss her knuckles like he had done before. He straightened and looked deeply into Sansa’s eyes; his heated gaze bore right through her. With a small jerk of his head, he turned to Helen again. “As always, the payment will arrive within a few days. I shall require a pair of shoes for Alayne as well and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Yes, of course. We wouldn’t want the girl to walk around in bare feet.” Helen jested and hurried into a back room once again, leaving Sansa alone with Petyr. The first thing she did was walk over and slap is arm, not with too much force of course but enough to make sure he felt it sting.

“You left me!” she tried to sound angry but couldn’t really manage that. The words came out as a breathy giggle instead.  “And shoes? You never mentioned that you would buy me more things!”

He chuckled and let his gaze drift over her body again before he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. His thumb caressed the soft skin of her neck. “I’m trying to be romantic and surprise you with dinner and then this is what I get in return?”

She was about to keep scolding him but halted her words. “Dinner?” she asked with wide eyes. Petyr chuckled again and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. His lips lingered longer than they should to remain appropriate and he then spoke huskily in her ear.

“Yes, dinner. Although Hogwarts provides delicious food, muggles exceed wizards in culinary talent just as they do with tailoring.” He pulled back quickly and turned her around as Helen approached them with a pair of black high-heeled ankle boots in her hand and Sansa’s borrowed coat draped over her arm.

“These will be perfect for you, dear.” Helen said and kneeled to put the boots on Sansa’s bare feet. When they were on, she was an inch taller than Petyr but he didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“You certainly have an eye for style, Helen. Thank you.” Petyr said as Sansa shrugged her coat on and he then looped his arm in hers.

“Anytime. The ball gown should be finished by Friday. Now off you go! I don’t want this pretty dress to go to waste!” Helen said and gestured at Sansa.

“Thank you once again, Helen.” Petyr chuckled and started walking out with Sansa by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, one more chapter and then the Christmas ball is here! WOOO!  
> All this fluff MIGHT have made Petyr somewhat uncharacteristic but I hope it's fine ;)
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos! I appreciate feedback so much<3
> 
> Also: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 300 KUDOS! I am so thankful for all my lovely readers<333


	34. Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haiii<33 It took some time to write this chapter, I've been busy but I'm trying to push myself to get the Christmas ball chapter ready before actual Christmas ;) Anyways, I won't keep you here in the notes any longer, enjoy!

A crystalline chandelier hung in the center of the lavish restaurant, reflecting lights into ornate patterns in the ceiling. White cloths covered the round tables, pure as the snow softly falling outside. She and Petyr were placed in a booth towards the back of the restaurant, a wall working as a shield behind them. Petyr had told her it was never a good idea to leave your back exposed to an open room. She worriedly wondered when exactly he had realized that.

The booth was a closed off space, not popular for those who wanted to be noticed and admired for their apparent wealth. Sansa could see most of the other guests from here but none of them seemed to see either her or Petyr. He had chosen a good spot. She did not desire any attention, privacy was preferable.

She shifted in her seat, having stopped her protests of him spoiling her long ago. No matter how much logic and arguments she had thrust onto Petyr, he would not give in. She had tried to explain that a ball gown was more than enough and that he didn’t have to but this _stupid dress_ and these _dumb shoes._

But oh, wasn’t it just _a_ _wonderful dress and beautiful shoes?_

Petyr had only chuckled at her and kept walking. He could clearly see through her façade and realize that she didn’t mean _all_ her words. She loved the dress, and the shoes, and the fact that he took her out to dinner in a place like _this._ Although she didn’t want to admit it, she loved the fact that he did all this for her. She wished she could give him something back that meant just as much.

Petyr himself still wore the same white button up and black slacks he had at Hogwarts but they were so exceptionally made from the start that he didn’t look the slightest out of place in the restaurant. Together they looked like quite the pair.

The food that Petyr had ordered for them both arrived quickly and she ate it slowly to savor the taste. The starter was a simple tomato soup and she hadn’t expected much from it, but was happily surprised. Small tinges of basil delectably mingled with the freshness of the tomato made her tongue tingle delightfully and she found herself slowly becoming addicted to the breadsticks that were served on the side.

She felt Petyr’s eyes roam over her and his low chuckle broke the comfortable silence they had set themselves in. “I take it you enjoy the food?”

She beamed at him, her tongue darting out to lick some lingering taste from her bottom lip.

 “It’s delicious. It’s so simple and yet…” She looked down at the now-empty place and shook her head lightly, at a loss for words. Petyr shifted closer to her, his leg brushing against hers. Or more than brushing, more like _pressing._

“I did tell you muggles have a certain talent for detail.” He murmured close to her ear and placed a hand on the small of her back. A pleasurable shiver went through her.

“The Hogwarts house-elves don’t stand a chance.” She breathed out and a waiter quickly removed their plates to prepare for the next dish. Petyr had insisted on three courses and she had not been able to persuade him otherwise. She was quite glad for that now. Her taste buds yearned for more flavor to experience.

Petyr’s thumb lazily drew circles on her back as they descended into silence once more. She liked that they didn’t feel a need to speak. Being around each other was enough, although she did adore their conversations as well. She was always up for a battle of wits if it was with him.

The main course was roasted wild boar with a chianti wine-sauce and potatoes. Sansa raised an eyebrow and glanced at Petyr as the waiter presented the dish. He was smirking with amusement, probably knowing her thoughts exactly; _Fancy pants…_

This time she did not expect simplicity, she was fully prepared for a delicious experience unlike any other. She was not disappointed. It tasted just as wonderful, if not more wonderful, than the last dish. She closed her eyes and chewed, a small giggle escaping her. She felt Petyr’s amused eyes drift over her over and over again.

The waiter returned as they both finished and he swept the plates away once more. Petyr had retreated his hand from her back as they ate but now it drifted towards her again, settling on her knee. His touches were small and barely noticeable by anyone other than them. She was still playing the part of his niece, just in case a reporter would spot the newest professor from Hogwarts. They were trying to avoid the _‘Professor Baelish’s love interest!’_ headline.

Petyr’s touch, now directly on her skin and not through her black dress, was intoxicating. His thumb repeated the circling movement he had done on her back and warmth started pooling in her lower belly. She shifted in her seat, trying to release some of the pressure that was building. Petyr chuckled and his hand drifted up to her thigh, sliding under her hem of her skirt only an inch.

She hadn’t meant to make a sound, but she mewled in need. _Mewled!_  As soon as the sound registered, she snapped her mouth shut. She wanted him to touch her where she ached, but he couldn’t, could he? Not here, surely.

But to her surprise, Petyr husked in her ear teasingly. “Anything particular you _desire_ from the menu?”

Was he really going to do it if she asked? He couldn’t possibly be serious. Wouldn’t it show? Wouldn’t someone _notice?_

“N..No” she stammered in a breath but Petyr didn’t stop. _Thank god… don’t stop._

“Oh, really? I can see that there’s _something.”_ Her skirt bunched up by his wrist as he moved his hand further up. She spread her legs involuntarily, her body not listening to the nervous part of her brain saying; _Someone will see! The tablecloth isn’t long enough!_

“There’s…” She mewled again as one finger touched over her soaked underwear, lightly as a feather.  “There’s something…”

“You needn’t hide anything from me, sweetling. Tell me what it is you want.” His fingers were playing with the edge of her knickers, slipping underneath one by one, ready to delve down between her folds.

“But you shouldn’t…” she said, reluctantly. She wanted it, _badly,_ but it could be dangerous. Or could it? If Petyr thought it would be safe, shouldn’t it?

“You’re so tense, sweetling…” He chuckled and withdrew from her completely, too fast for her to stop him. She turned her head sharply, prepared to beg him for something _more._ He couldn’t just leave her wanting like this! But the reason for his withdrawal soon appeared.

The waiter placed their desserts down before them and hurried along with a polite smile. Sansa looked after him for a second and then glanced at Petyr. She waited, waited for his hand to return to her heated core, but instead it went up to the table, grabbed a spoon and started on the dessert.

She bit her lip in frustration and reached up to her own spoon. The dessert was chocolate mousse with caramelized strawberries and whipped champagne-ice cream. She ate it as unhurriedly as she could but found that her plate was empty before Petyr’s and he still hadn’t touched her again.

_Fine. If he wants me to play coy, I’ll play coy._

She shifted closer to him and fingered with the table cloth in front of him. “Could I have a taste?” She asked.

He lifted an eyebrow and scooped up some more chocolate mousse.

“You had the same dessert as I.” he said in a serious tone but his eyes and smirk spoke of amusement. She pressed her arm against him more firmly and dropped one of her hands to his thigh. She rubbed her thumb in circles, mimicking the motion he had made on her. She forced herself not to grin as his trousers tightened around his crotch.

“Yes but I do so love the taste.” She kept the words mundane but her tone suggested something far more. He opened his mouth to respond and she quickly slid her hand between his legs and squeezed the growing bulge gently.

He disguised his growl of pleasure as a clearing of his throat and his hand quickly seized her wrist. She was almost afraid she had done something wrong but the look in his eyes instantly calmed her. They were dark with lust- a good sign for her.

“I need the ladies’ room. Excuse me.” She said coyly and slipped out from the booth in an elegant motion that had been rehearsed in her head several times already. With a winning smile on her lips, she strode in through the little door by the corner of the dining hall.

It wasn’t entirely surprising to see that even inside the washroom the décor was impeccable. The stalls were polished wood, the white porcelain sinks were clean beyond measure, the taps shone in a golden glimmer and a crystalline chandelier, like the one in the dining hall only smaller, hung in the middle of the ceiling.

Sansa was in awe for perhaps a solid minute as she studied the room. Eventually she snapped out of her daze and walked into one of the stalls, locking the door behind her. There was fairly much space she noted and bit her lip in nervousness. Would Petyr take the hint? He would, wouldn’t he? An opportunity to do something this wicked couldn’t just fly over his head.

Oh and it was wicked. She had invited him to follow her and fuck in a bathroom stall. Did that count as ‘in public’ or still ‘private’ fucking? She didn’t know. But the knowledge of what she was about to do excited her.

She glanced around, checking so the space around her was clean. It looked that way but she didn’t want any weird germs on her so she took her wand in hand from where it had been secured by her thigh with a sticking spell. With a quick wave of it, and a soft murmur, the area was thoroughly clean and germ-free. She smiled to herself and, just in case, locked the stall door with a charm as well before placing her wand on the toilet lid.

Leaning against the wall, she tapped her foot lightly on the floor. How long had it been now? Five minutes? Ten? Would Petyr just get over here already?

Feeling frustrated by the tension and heat between her legs, she tightened the muscles of her thighs to feel some sort of relief. After a few times of doing that, and feeling how nice it was to do it, she began pressing her legs together. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wooden wall. Her hips began a rocking motion against nothing, desperate for so much more than she got. She whimpered and felt her face turn into a small frown.

At that moment, she felt something in the air around her shift and as she snapped open her eyes, Petyr had apparated to stand right in front of her. He was wearing an amused smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Trying to get a head start, are we?” He asked and chuckled low in his chest. Sansa knew very well that beneath that amusement, he fought the urge to pin her to the wall and ravish her. _Why fight the urge, Petyr?_ She thought and matched his expression.

“You took your time.” She husked and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him to her for a deep kiss.

As soon as their lips touched, his arms went on either side of her body and she was pinned to the wall. His chest pressed her firmly against the wood and she grinded against him when she felt his hardness by her hip. He groaned into her mouth and one of his hands was quickly down by her thigh.

He caressed her skin with a wonderful roughness from his hand and her skirt was hitching up as he headed towards his goal. His fingers curled around the edge of her knickers and he yanked to the side. She head a ripping sound and the fabric was no longer felt against her at all. He had ripped them off her and then, if the ripple of magic was something to go after, vanished them with a silent spell.

She giggled and grabbed the hairs in the back of his neck, pulling him back so she could speak without his distracting mouth on hers. “Stop stealing my knickers. You still haven’t given back the last pair you took.” She gasped.

He suddenly pulled a finger along her dripping slit and she could do nothing but arch her back into the touch. She moaned softly and held herself steady by his shoulders.

“As I recall, the first pair was a gift from you.” He growled affectionately in her ear and started to place suckling kisses on her exposed neck. Sansa remembered very well that it had been a gift, from their first time, but it was just fun teasing him.

She smiled to herself and reached down to unbutton his trousers. Her fingers fumbled slightly but it didn’t take long until she had opened them enough to slip her hand inside. She grasped his hard member and he groaned against her skin, his teeth nipping her gently.

Petyr let his fingers dance between her folds, her slickness spread to her clit by his elegant digits. He rubbed her in a circular motion and she moaned in response, trying her best to keep moving her hand up and down his length.

someone hear them? She wondered briefly but a jerk of pleasure shook through her body unexpectedly and made her lose the thought.

She was making unintelligible noises, moving against him in rocking motions of her hips, and started to pull down his trousers. His hard cock was soon free of restrictions and she didn’t even have to ask before he was lined up by her opening. Right when his lips returned to hers in a kiss, he thrust up into her, filling her to the hilt.

They both groaned at the contact and she closed her eyes with pleasure. He always managed to hit some secret deep spot inside her that even her own fingers couldn’t find. With each thrust he hit her there, over and over again she felt herself getting closer to the cliff that felt so good to fall down from.

When his thumb found her clit and rubbed her, back and forth, she could do nothing but release all the tensions in her body, fall down in the waves of ecstasy. Her head tilted back, her face to the ceiling, and his name caught in her throat as she shuddered. Her muscles pulsated around his cock that was pounding into her until he too found release.

He released a raw sound, like it came straight from his chest, and leaned into her to keep himself upright. His seed filled her with warmth and as her own body started to relax, she supported his weight the best she could.

“Gods, Sansa…” He murmured in her and kissed her neck gently, moving along her jaw to meet her lips. “You’re so mischievous, love.”

She smiled at that and felt as he regained his strength. If they hadn’t been in the washroom of a fancy restaurant, she might have requested them to go another round. She had no doubt he would be up for it. But as it was, they should get back to Hogwarts soon.

“So are you. We’re the perfect match.” She said, not quite jesting. She did feel like they were perfect, as perfect as two people could be for each other.

He chuckled and straightened up, tucking his limp cock back into his black trousers. He smirked and shifted away from her, moving his hands over his rumpled clothing to make them smooth with wandless magic. Sansa looked down to herself and noticed that Petyr had already fixed her clothes up a little. And still, a frown touched her face.

“Can’t I get back my knickers?” She complained and looked up at him. He was amused. _When is he not when he’s teasing me?_

“No.” He said simply and she could tell he was getting ready to apparate, probably back into the men’s washroom. It would look peculiar if he were to stride out from the ladies’.

“But I’m just wearing a dress Petyr. It’ll get so cold!” She made a small pouting face, actually thinking about how cold it would be. And she was wet and slick down there too. The chill would be terrible.

He smirked and she knew he would not give in. “Warming charms exist for a reason, sweetling.” And with that, he was gone.

She let out a groan but couldn’t contain her smile. _Wicked. Utterly wicked._ She pulled her hand through her hair as she picked up her wand, removed the locking charm from the door, and hid it underneath her skirt again.

She walked out to wash her hands in the elegant sink and caught her face in the mirror. She looked well-fucked, that was certain. Because she knew she wasn’t as skilled in wandless and silent magic as Petyr, she tried to clean herself the best she could in the muggle-way.

After washing her face with a dampened paper towel, she looked decent enough to make it look like it had simply been a long day.  She flashed her reflection a smile and moved to the exit. As she was heading out, an older woman in her 30’s perhaps, walked out from her stall, casting Sansa a look that could only be described as slightly grossed out.

She realized that the woman must’ve heard her and Petyr, although she was probably confused that they had been talking about ‘ _charms’_ and that the man who had obviously been with Sansa was nowhere in sight. But muggles were ignorant and the strange conversation was most likely already lost in the woman’s mind. Of course, the sounds of sex often stuck.

Sansa pushed through the exit and felt a blush creeping up to color her cheeks crimson.

-

They apparated back to the same place they had left Hogwarts; right outside the official grounds. Petyr had already cast a disillusionment spell on them both, making them invisible unless up-close. Sansa kept her arm linked with Petyr’s but right before they stepped into the grounds, she remembered.

“Petyr, wait.” She whispered, although as soon as the first syllable had left her mouth, Petyr had already cast muffliato around them.

“Something the matter?” He asked worriedly, instantly noticing the apprehension in her trembling voice.

“I forgot to tell you earlier but… Arya says Ramsay hasn’t been in school lately and, apparently, no one seems to care. Not his teachers or even the headmaster! I’m just wondering if you think… you know, if you think he’s planning something?” She mumbled her last words and looked up at him nervously.

His grip on her arm tightened and she was quickly enveloped by his warm arms. She relaxed against his chest. “No. He’s not planning something.”

“How do you know?”

“His father, Roose Bolton, has brought him into the circles of the ministry these past weeks. He hasn’t been involved much from what I know but it is possible that Roose is planning to gain more power by incorporating his son in some of the affairs. I have only just started looking into it, still, there might be something more that I haven’t found out about yet. But I have no reason to suspect they will target you, not here, not at Hogwarts. Roose wouldn’t allow his son to take such a risk.” Petyr said and stroked her hair. “I won’t let them touch you, Sansa.” He soothed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

They stood still for a while as Sansa took it in. _Ramsay is allowed in the ministry? That must be why-…_ “But what about Joffrey? He’s angry, I know he is, and there is no one following his lead anymore. He’s jealous of Ramsay’s power and he will take it out on me.” She said with fear in her gaze. She was stronger now, _she was_ , but she knew how dangerous Joffrey could be if allowed to roam freely. Lions had claws after all.

Petyr squeezed her to him and then pulled back to cradle her face in his warm soft hands.

“ _I won’t let them touch you._ ” His thumb swept over her cheek, as if wiping away a tear that wasn’t there. “Joffrey is predictable. He might be an idiot but he’s not entirely stupid. He knows he can’t harm you publically. If he wants to do anything to you, he will try to do it when you’re alone. _Keep close to others._ Then he can’t do anything.  
He isn’t nearly cunning enough to set up a plan to separate you from your classmates. He will approach you openly, try to command you to go with him. If that happens, you come to me. You tell him you have detention and _you come to me._ ”

His voice was laced with desperation, slight uncertainty and perhaps even a little bit of fear. Sansa could only nod in answer to him. She would follow his instructions. She trusted him to keep her safe.

“As for Myranda Royce… She is an entirely different matter. A Ravenclaw won’t go in without a plan…” He said and closed his eyes briefly, almost as if defeated. This made Sansa worry.

“What do you think she’ll do?” She whispered and Petyr placed a long kiss on her forehead.

“We should take this inside.” He murmured and led her towards the grand castle that stood as a dark shadow in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND NEXT UP IS CHRISTMAS BALL!!! Yay<3 I hope all you lovelies liked this smutty, and shall I say "wicked", chapter! 
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts, you're always welcome to comment!<333
> 
> You can also contact me on my Tumblr: arianassunflower


	35. Christmas Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOO! It's finally time for the ball, yayy!! I really hope I can live up to your expectations with this chapter. I feel a little unsure but I'm overall quite pleased. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> Psychological disturbances  
> Underage drinking

Sansa's dress:

I'd like to give all my thanks to **lady_sansa_stark** here on AO3 for photoshopping this picture for me! You did an absolutely wonderful job and I'm so happy to have gotten help with this <333

Her Tumblr is **@lady--sansa-stark** so go follow her!

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Music for this chapter:

*I do not own this video

 

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She woke up from the sound of a faint ‘crack’ in her dorm, breaking the silence that had enveloped her during the night. With heavy eyes, she sat up groggily and scanned the room for the source of the sound that still echoed around in her head, but not a living thing could be seen around her. She assumed her dorm-mates had gone down to breakfast already. They were probably all sitting in the great hall, giddy and excited. It was the day of the Christmas ball and so it was only to be expected.

Sansa contemplated if she should try to go back to sleep but decided against it as a headache started pounding by her temples. _I shouldn’t have taken that dreamless-sleep potion last night…_ She thought absentmindedly but knew that it had been for the best. If it hadn’t been for that, she would have never fallen asleep.

Nervousness curled up like a snake in her stomach, cold and entirely too heavy. She didn’t like it at all.

With a sigh she stretched out in a feline motion, her spine forming a C and her toes curling into the mattress. It was then she noticed the heaviness that lay on the foot of her bed.

She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them again, and saw a black package with a silver bow gingerly placed atop the Slytherin-green covers. Despite the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, her face lit up in a warm smile. She untangled from the sheets and crawled over to the package, carefully untying the silver ribbon that held it all together.

With a flourish of magic, the package opened to reveal neatly folded fabric, almost the same color as her covers only slightly darker. She instantly knew what it was and she was glad it had arrived in time.

She smiled brighter and practically jumped out of bed, ignoring the small pound of pain by her temples as she did so, and touched the fabric with the tip of her wand. It flowed out of its folded form effortlessly and Sansa’s eyes widened as she saw the complete gown levitate in front of her, completely displayed.

The green hue of the silk shimmered in the candle light and shadows traveled along the creases like black rivers. Embroidered vines with silver leaves trickled over the bodice and down to the skirt, like it was a living plant growing over, and a sheer see-through fabric started by the sweetheart neckline and up to where Sansa’s collarbones would be once she put it on. She could see it in front of her, how she would look in it and how everyone’s jaws would drop as they spotted her. She wasn’t sure if that made her giddy with excitement or nervous with dread. In some ways, both.

She cast a quick spell to fold the gown up again and hid it underneath her pillow. She didn’t want anyone to see it yet. And when people did see it, she would have to lie about where she got it from. She had already sorted through all kinds of possible lies during the week but none had seemed right. It was only yesterday evening that she found a relatively good one.

She would say she had gotten it from a weird place in Diagon Alley last summer and placed some charms on it to make it look better. No one would bother to _actually_ go to Diagon Alley and find the mysterious shop, especially if Sansa said it was creepy in there. She also hoped that no one would question the extremely fine detailing of the gown. It was too delicate to be made from a charm but if anyone _did_ ask, she could say she sewed the details on herself. Her mother had taught her when she was young so it wasn’t completely impossible.

But hopefully people would be distracted by her looks and not ask too many questions. Petyr had said that would be the case, at least.

She yawned and checked the time, realizing she was quite hungry. It was 09:45 am, breakfast wasn’t over yet so she still had time to go down and eat, but she decided against it. Lunch would be at 12 o’clock, it wasn’t so long to wait and she didn’t think she could stomach anything right now without getting sick. The cold, heavy snake still curled inside of her and she preferred not to upset it.

She sighed again and made her bed with a quick spell when she suddenly remembered the ‘crack’ sound that had woken her up. She looked around the room again, getting paranoid. No one was in here, right? She was safe, wasn’t she?

After standing froze for a time, it struck her and she huffed out a breath in relief; _house elves…_ Petyr must’ve sent a house elf to leave the package and the sound had come from the creature as it apparated out from her dorm. House elves were not restricted by the wards in the castle and they could apparate around freely to deal with the chores that they so loved doing.

 _Clever._ She thought with a smile, feeling lighter than before, but not by much.

When she heard the common room door open and the sound of several students returning from breakfast, she realized she would much rather be alone than have to converse with anyone, at least until lunch when she would have to join them to eat. As if on cue, a familiar door appeared in front of her with a rumbling from the walls as the bricks shifted. She walked inside without a second thought, thankful for the room of requirement now more than ever.

-

The minutes seemed like hours and when the evening finally arrived and people could start getting ready, Sansa was immensely relieved. She didn’t think she could handle even a second longer in the buzzing common room. It was rarely this loud in the dungeons but the teenage girls couldn’t seem to handle the excitement and simply had to express themselves. Sansa didn’t blame them for it, or disliked them for it, but it was nicer to be alone with her thoughts and not be bombarded with questions about if she had a date or not.

When the washroom finally became unoccupied, Sansa hurried in, carrying her folded dress in her arms and a pair of low silver heels hanging on two of her fingers. She had found the shoes on her bed after emerging from the room of requirement, right before lunch. The house elf Petyr had sent must’ve come back and left them.

She locked the door behind her and decided not to put a silencing charm on it. The loudness of her dorm had now become only a soothing buzz and she didn’t want to get lost in her own head completely. The muffled chatter of the girls outside provided to be some sort of comfort as she told herself not to be nervous. Tonight wasn’t anything too special. It was a Christmas ball but nothing else had changed.

The girls’ dorm washroom was quite large with enough space to allow at least ten more people in there with some space still left over. In the far end corner was the shower, drops of water raining down from the ceiling when you turned it on, but Sansa had washed her hair only last night so she didn’t feel like she needed a shower. There was a bathtub too, right beside the shower. It was a classical clawfoot tub made of grey marble and silvery porcelain, magically made of course to achieve the unique shine. It fit the essence of the Slytherin common room very well, modern and yet with a traditional style to it.

The walls were made of light gray polished stone, almost white and smooth to the touch. The lighting was brighter than anywhere else in the dungeons but the candles could, of course, be dimmed with magic. The toilet was hidden behind the wall beside the tub, only revealing itself when a tile was pressed in. Whoever designed this place apparently thought having a toilet out and about was too distasteful. Sansa didn’t really care but it _did_ look better without in some ways.

A large mirror almost completely covered one wall and on the other side stood a grey marble counter with silver taps and a carved-out sink in the middle. Above it was smaller mirror with a black frame and slightly magnifying properties. When the mirrors faced each other like this, on either side of the room with nothing in between, it almost became a kaleidoscope, making strange shapes and patterns appear.

Sansa walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face to waken up a little. She had felt like she was in a daze almost all day. Thankfully, the water helped and she dried herself off on a green towel than hung beside the smaller mirror. Her headache had also stopped after lunch.

She quickly stripped off all her clothes, turning around to be able to see her whole body in the larger mirror, completely nude. She didn’t know why exactly but it felt like it would be good to study her own movements. Her eyes observed the reflection carefully, not really judging but not praising either.

She was pale but her skin was relatively unblemished at least. Being a witch had its uses and she had managed to avoid getting any large scars from her occasional _accidents,_ as Cersei called it. Her hair was a flaming copper shade, soft and reaching all the way down to her navel in waves.  Her eyes were a little small, not large and doe-like as you saw on girls in magazines.  But of all the things, her eyes were what she liked most about herself. She inherited the ocean blue from her mother but there was a frosty tinge to it, showing that she was of the North like her father.

Her breasts were normal she supposed, but they could be better shaped in her opinion. Her hips were somewhat in between full and narrow, she couldn’t really decide which. It all depended on who you compared it to. Her waist wasn’t the tiniest but it looked alright in proportion to the rest of her body.

There wasn’t anything she particularly _disliked_ about herself. She was pretty. People had always told her that. But today she didn’t like her reflection all that much. Something was just _off._ Her facial expression wasn’t happy and glowing. Instead she had a crease between her brows and her lips looked dry. _Stop being so bloody nervous._

She jerked herself out of her trance and started to put on new underwear; a strapless bra with black lace covering it and matching knickers with a small silver bow on the front. She wanted to feel confident tonight and dressing for it was an easy way to get a boost, even if no one would see her underwear anyways.

She then tapped the folded dress with her wand again, just like she had done in the morning, and it unfolded easily. The soft sound of fluttering fabric was weirdly satisfying to hear.

She cast a levitation charm on it and moved it over her, letting it descend slowly so she could slip her arms and head through the holes. When it was settled, she looked in the mirror again, taking a deep breath as she felt certainty fill her. _You got this._ She told herself and smiled.

It was a tight smile, not quite natural, but it made her feel more relaxed.

The dress didn’t need any fixing, she didn’t even have to adjust it. It fit her every curve perfectly and it hugged her body in a soft embrace of surprising warmth. She didn’t know if it was the fabric itself or if Petyr had cast a heating charm on it before sending it to her. She was thankful nonetheless.

She didn’t know what to do with her hair. Her dress was so very beautiful that she couldn’t do it justice by attempting to make anything elegant. Her mother had often said that modesty was the most elegant thing you could wear. Listening to her mother’s words echo in her head, she twisted her hair up in a simple bun at the base of her neck, letting the stray waves be. She secured it with a spell that Jeyne had taught her in their second year and then slipped her shoes on.

The heels weren’t as high as the ones she had worn to her dinner with Petyr but she would still be taller than some of the boys in her year. She had always been tall and it used to be an insecurity of hers but not anymore. She didn’t know exactly _when_ she had stopped caring about her height but the fact that Petyr hadn’t minded her being taller than him last week made her feel relieved. Imagine if he had been grumpy with her. She giggled lightly at the thought. It wasn’t her fault he was a little short.

She then placed the tip of her wand in between her brows, closed her eyes, and murmured the make-up spell. Jeyne had taught her that one too, in their third year. Sansa suddenly found herself missing her old friend. Jeyne might be a little air-headed now after the _Obliviate_ had been cast on her, but they were still friends, weren’t they? Sansa hoped so.

She looked in the magnifying mirror, feeling pleased with her make-up. She had a light nude eye shadow over her lids and a thin smudge of eyeliner by her upper lash line. Her lashes were coated in black mascara, framing her eyes nicely, and her lips were tinged with only a little lip-gloss. She looked ten times better than she had when she walked into the washroom.

Realizing that she had nowhere to put her wand, she held up her skirt to place it against her bare calf, keeping it in place with the same sticking charm she had used at the restaurant. She dropped her skirt and let it cover her leg again, only the front of her shoes sticking out from underneath the waves of green silk. It wouldn’t be very easy to reach her wand if she needed it quickly but this was the best she could do. Besides, everything would be fine. She wouldn’t need it.

She took another deep breath, allowing herself to admire her reflection. The green complimented her hair wonderfully, more so than her Slytherin tie had ever done, and the silver leaves brought out the winter in her eyes. She looked like a goddess and she knew that Petyr would appreciate the view as well.

She smiled confidently to herself, unlocked the door, and walked out.

The loud bustle of teenage girls quieted down slowly as Sansa strode over to the trunk where she kept her belongings and placed the school uniform she had worn earlier inside it. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, deafening in the silence that had settled.

“Oh my god.” A girl gasped out suddenly and Sansa vaguely recognized that it was Mia’s voice, her dorm mate. Sansa liked praise, she did, but this particular evening it felt almost suffocating. Nevertheless, she ignored the cold snake that started to awaken in her stomach and faced the group of Slytherin girls with a timid smile on her face. Still, she didn’t know what to answer to Mia’s statement.

“Where did you get that dress?” Someone else exclaimed with excitement but Sansa didn’t know who it was. Sansa writhed her hands together a little awkwardly, then repeated the lie she had practiced in her head.

“I found it in some weird place in Diagon Alley. It was scary in there, I think the lady by the counter would have hexed me if I hadn’t bought anything.” She said with a huff of laughter.

Her second dorm mate, Jasmine, then took a few quick strides forward and leaned closer to Sansa, inspecting the silver embroidery with fascination in her eyes. “I’ve never seen anything like this before…” She sighed and reached out to touch a leaf by Sansa’s collarbone but stopped her movement as she remembered her manners. With a small apologetic smile, she stepped back.

Sansa smiled back and dropped her fidgeting hands to her sides, her fingers fanning out over the soft silk skirt. “It looked worse when I bought it… But my mother taught me how to sew when I was young, sew in the muggle way I mean. I used some spells too.”

“I wish I would have known that! Then you could have helped with my dress!” Mia then exclaimed with a giggle and all the other girls seemed to accept Sansa’s lie. Some of them were perhaps a little suspicious but they all knew better than to press for more answers. It wasn’t like they cared _that_ much about Sansa Stark.

Sansa smiled again and dropped her eyes to the floor. “Has anyone seen Jeyne?” She then asked and looked up, deciding that it would be best to divert the attention a little bit from herself.

Jasmine nodded. “I last saw her standing by the fire in the common room.”

“Thanks.” Sansa murmured and walked over to the door. She grabbed the handle gently but turned around before twisting it. She studied her acquaintances, or were they friends? Maybe.

Mia wore a deep blue sleeveless gown with golden beading across the waist. It was strange to see her in those colors but perhaps her date was a Ravenclaw and she was determined to match. It looked stunning on her.

Jasmine was clad in an elegant black laced dress, snugly fitting her form and fanning out only mid-thigh. She did not look too different from the mermaids that occasionally swam past the underwater window. All the boys would fall to their knees and beg her for a dance, Sansa was sure.

The six remaining girls wore equally beautiful dresses in a variety of colors. Two wore Slytherin green, like Sansa, but none of them looked as detailed. Sansa felt a little self-conscious about that. Another girl wore a golden gown, the fabric shining like the sun in the candle light. Two others wore some sort of traditional attire but Sansa did not know where from. The last girl was clad in light gray long dress with silver beadings detailing the high neck.

They were all undeniably gorgeous. Why they had all been so fascinated by Sansa’s dress, she didn’t know. They looked just as wonderfully elegant as she, in her opinion at least.

“You all look beautiful, I doubt you would have needed my help.” She said and smiled warmly before walking out from the crowded dorm.

She walked down the short narrow corridor and then emerged into the soothingly soft light of the common room. Students were littered around. A few sat in the lounge area, playing an intense game of chess before the ball. Some chatted calmly while sipping a cup of tea, although Sansa guessed it was spiced with something a little stronger. Slytherins had their ways of breaking the rules and a small amount of firewhisky had ever hurt anybody.

Some of the boys only glanced at her briefly as she passed but most eyes were quickly glued onto her form. But none dared speak to her. She didn’t have a great relationship to the other Slytherin girls but she had an even _worse_ relationship with the boys. Not that she wanted their attention anyways.

She found Jeyne sitting on the plush couch in front of the fire that crackled softly into the room. She walked over in silence, sitting down beside her with a small smile. Jeyne turned to her and beamed. “Hey!” she said enthusiastically, like Sansa had never drifted apart from her at all.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Sansa said quietly and gestured towards the book that was open in Jeyne’s lap. She wasn’t that interested really but it was a start to a conversation.

“Oh, it’s great! It’s about some magical creatures and whatnot. Some guy named Newt Salamander wrote it.” Jeyne said and set the book aside and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s Scamander, Jeyne. Newt Scamander.” She said and stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from her dress. Jeyne did the same and laughed.

“Well, Salamander was close at least” She said happily. _Oh, Jeyne…_ Sansa didn’t know if she should feel sad or not. The Obliviate from the shrieking shack took its toll on Jeyne. She had been so full of potential once and now she was a bubbly mess. But at least she was happy and Sansa had a feeling that had always been her greatest ambition.

“WOW! Look at you!” Jeyne exclaimed suddenly, breaking Sansa out of her thoughts. “That dress is gorgeous!”

Sansa dropped her eyes to the ground, smiling shyly. “Thank you, Jeyne.” She then let her eyes wander over her friend. Jeyne was wearing a light blue chiffon gown although it looked almost sea green in the light from the lake. The fabric hung in large ruffles by the skirt and was eventually wrapped around her torso, ending with a sweetheart neckline. It was youthful and airy, a little like Jeyne herself.

“Oh, but look at _you.”_ Sansa countered to Jeyne’s praise and now it was her turn to be shy.

“It’s nothing special really. It used to be my mum’s but she gave it to me this year.”

“Then it _is_ special!” Sansa said, wishing she had something for her mother.

“Thank you.” Jeyne tapped the floor with the heel on her shoe before looking up. “Do you have a date?”

Sansa lied quickly, feeling just a little bad for doing it. “No.” She didn’t have a reason.

“That’s wonderful!” Jeyne said and Sansa looked at her, confused for a second before Jeyne explained. “I don’t have one either! We can go together!”

Sansa’s face lit up in a smile. “I’d love to.” This was the closest she had been to Jeyne in almost two years.

-

She walked down the stairs slowly, as to not trip, with her arm tightly looped with Jeyne’s. It wasn’t the grand solo entrance like she had envisioned, but she was rather glad over that fact. The cold snake stirred inside her and tied her stomach in knots. If she had been alone, her anxiety would most likely have been worse.

The burning gazes of what felt like a thousand eyes hit her instantly as she rounded the corner and faces the great hall. She couldn’t possible count how many people had arrived already but she assumed almost the entire school. She and Jeyne had been one of the last to leave the Slytherin common room at least.

“Miss Sansa Stark and Miss Jeyne Poole.” Dumbledore’s voice echoed around the hall, but it must’ve been a magical recording set to go off when someone entered because Dumbledore himself sat by the ever-present head table in casual conversation with McGonagall.

He looked over to the entering girls quickly and nodded in greeting, an almost fatherly smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. McGonagall smiled at them as well before returning her focus to the headmaster and their conversation.

Glancing up, Sansa saw that the ceiling had been charmed to look like the night sky and northern lights danced with stars in the dark. The walls were covered in elegant white draperies and torches burned every three meters to light up the room. Four banners, each depicting the sigil of one of the houses, hung behind the head table. A small orchestra was placed by the corner, softly playing some classical music, and the crowd was a rainbow of colors but red, blue, yellow and green seemed to be the dominant hues. A large Christmas tree stood in another corner, hundreds of ornaments glittering in the shifting light.

Sansa scanned around the room, her gaze not staying locked on anyone’s eyes. She fought the urge to fidget as she and Jeyne made their way further into the hall. Most people moved politely to the side to allow the girls to pass, although some eyes lingered a little too long for Sansa’s liking.

They stopped by the refreshments-table and Sansa poured herself some of the punch. She took a sip and turned to the entrance as Dumbledore’s voice echoed out again. “Samwell Tarly and Gilly Craster.” Sansa didn’t know them and so she didn’t pay much attention.

The punch was sweet and coated her tongue with a tingling stickiness, probably as a result from some sort of charm. It was quite good, a little lemony but a tinge of raspberry was also hinted at in the yellow swirl of citrus. But Sansa found herself wishing it contained something a little stronger. She could use some firewhisky, but only some. Only to calm her nerves. But, of course, it wasn’t served and it wasn’t allowed.

“No one’s dancing.” Jeyne observed from Sansa’s side, sipping her own punch carefully. Sansa looked around the hall and indeed, a large space was left to be the dance floor and yet no one had started dancing despite that the waltz that had started. _I’m not the only one who’s nervous I suppose._

As her eyes drifted away from the gaping hole in the crowd, she caught sight of Petyr standing against the opposite wall and his gaze burrowing into her with what she knew was both awe and raw desire.

He was dressed in a black robe, not unlike his teaching attire, but even from far away she could tell that it was detailed exceptionally. _Helen probably made that one too…_ Sansa thought as she noticed the hint of silver that was embroidered by his high collar and cuffs. _It matches my gown if you care to look close enough._

His long and elegant fingers absentmindedly toyed around his beard as he looked her over, head to toe. His mockingbird pin flashed a glimmer at her as he shifted, crossing his legs as he leaned against the drapery-covered wall. Sansa could think of a few reasons why he would cross his legs. One reason in particular…

Heat quickly pooled between her legs, spreading inside her stomach and burning at the cold snake so that it recoiled. How could he do that? With such a simple thing as a lingering look from him and she was practically shivering with need.

“Hello? Hogwarts to Sansa?” Jeyne’s voice suddenly reached her ears and she vaguely saw a hand wave in front of her face before she turned to her friend. Jeyne giggled at her dazed expression. “And people say I’m air-headed! What were you thinking about?”

Sansa quickly smiled, fighting a deep sigh that threatened to escape her, and lied. “Oh nothing, just a bit nervous, that’s all.”

Jeyne nodded and gulped down the last of her punch. She made a face, probably thinking it was a little sour. But it made no matter. There were other flavors to choose from and Sansa was sure she would make a better decision at her next serving. “So, I was asking if you’d like to dance? Someone has to be the first.” Jeyne giggled.

Sansa’s emotions must’ve shown on her face as Jeyne sighed, although with amusement. It seemed impossible to make Jeyne anything but happy nowadays. “Why not?”

“I just don’t want to draw that much attention to myself, you know?” Sansa said truthfully. This time, Jeyne outright laughed.

“You should’ve thought of that before wearing that dress! Do you know how many guys that are looking at you right now? Even those who already have dates!” She exclaimed and Sansa quickly looked around, getting self-conscious.

And just as Jeyne had said, plenty of boys were  staring, although they all looked away either as Sansa caught their gaze or as their dates slapped their arms to get the attention back. She huffed quietly. _It wasn’t exactly my idea to wear this dress either…_ She thought, a little grumpily, when someone cleared their voice beside her.

She turned her head and was faced with a pair of burning mossy-green eyes and the gleam of a silver pin. Petyr smirked widely like he always did. Like Snape had his scowl, Petyr had his smirk, revealing how different they were. Snape scared people away, surely on purpose, to have solitude, whiles Petyr smiled and drew people in, manipulating them in the most subtle of ways. _If Snape wants a position high in the ministry, he will have to change his ways. He’ll get nowhere being the bastard that he is. Petyr knows what he’s doing._ Sansa thought and almost smirked to herself before stopping her expression from changing.

 “Miss Stark, would you care to dance?” Petyr asked huskily with a quirk of his eyebrow. Sansa shot him a quickly glare. _What the hell Petyr? So much for subtlety…_

“Yes, of course professor.” She answered, despite her thoughts that screamed _bad idea!_ Petyr held out his hand and she tried to make it look like she was hesitant, maybe even disgusted, by his touch as she took it. No one could be allowed to see how comfortable she was with holding his hand.

He led her towards the still empty dance floor and Sansa shot a quick look at Jeyne. Her friend was staring, like several others, in shocked disbelief. They probably didn’t blame Sansa for accepting however. He was the ruthless DADA professor, no one would deny him a simple dance, in fear of being scolded or having house points taken.

He led her up to the center and stopped, turning towards her and placing his free hand on her waist. She put her hand on is shoulder, clutching the other hand in his. She looked up into his eyes and fought the urge to smile as he quirked his eyebrow again. No matter how stupid this little idea of his was, he looked like a pleased little schoolboy getting candy for being good.

With a quick nod of his head, he stepped forward, making Sansa follow his movement and take a step back. He stepped right, back, left and forward all while spinning them both around in such an elegant manner that Sansa was half-convince that he was a professional dancer. Although, his expertise shouldn’t surprise her. Everything he did, he did with purpose and with confidence. He was not a man to do something half done.

Sansa was painfully aware of the staring of her school mates. Some even gaped, open-mouthed, at them as they swiftly moved around to the classical waltz played by the small orchestra. But to Sansa’s great relief, some couples then moved out, hand in hand, and started dancing themselves. More and more people joined in and suddenly, she and Petyr were not alone in the spotlight.

At that moment, Sansa felt muffliato being cast around her but no one else seemed to notice. _I guess you have to be familiar with it to recognize it._ She thought and then focused solely on Petyr. “What do you think you’re doing, drawing attention to us like this?” She asked, barely moving her mouth and scowling at him, although not with as much force as she had wanted.

He huffed in a suppressed chuckle and his fingers by her waist dug in briefly in possessiveness. “I had to have you first. Simple as that.” He moved his mouth to a bare minimum, just like she had.

“Don’t you think it is a bit suspicious that a _professor_ asks his _student_ to have the first dance?”

“No one will remember this later, sweetling. I will likely be dancing with McGonagall, Trelawney, as well as some other students this evening. Trust me. No one will remember.”

She nodded at him briefly and sighed. “I trust you…”

“I know.” His body twitched forward for half a second, like he was about to lean forward and kiss her, but he caught himself in time. His eyes then swept over her and he took a deep breath, only noticeable by the sound. His body moved around in the dance too much for anyone to see the expansion of his chest.

He took a step forward, far quicker in his stride than he had been before, and his body was suddenly very close to hers. His mouth swept by her ear and his breathed word sent shivers down her spine. _“Exquisite.”_

His body heat was then gone, only remaining where his hands touched her. He had moved back quickly, like he actually wanted to refrain from being too close to her. His act was impeccable.

“Thank you. I must admit, Helen did a wonderful job.” She said and bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.

“Although the gown is gorgeous, I somehow can’t wait to see you out of it.” His smirk widened just a little.

“That’s not a very appropriate thing to say, _professor._ ”

Petyr’s pupils dilated with lust. “It should be forbidden to let such delicious students as yourself attend this school. Can’t the headmaster see how distracting it is?” he jested and Sansa looked around out of habit to see if anyone had heard. No one had, of course, and just then the song ended.

Petyr released her and bid her goodbye with a nod of his head, breaking the muffliato charm as he did so. He then strode past her with long strides to finally arrive by McGonagall’s side. The professor smiled as he bowed quickly. “Care for a dance, Minerva?” Sansa heard him say.

“Why, Petyr? Are you tiring of the young girls already?” McGonagall said in a teasing tone and Petyr chuckled.

“The girl was an adequate dancer but she lost her concentration and footing more than once I’m afraid. I simply hope that you can do a better performance.” He said charismatically. He truly did have a way to make friends with people.

McGonagall chuckled and took his offered hand. “I’ll do my best.” And another waltz started.

Sansa was jerked out of her daze when someone grabbed her arm and turned her around. Startled, she prepared to scream but was relieved to see her sister’s big brown eyes looking up at her. Arya scowled, grabbed both of Sansa’s hands and put them on her waist before placing her own on Sansa’s shoulders.

Naturally, they started to twirl around, dancing playfully but Arya’s face was still glaring, but not necessarily on Sansa. “What the fuck was he doing?” She whispered in Sansa’s ear, or as close to Sansa’s ear as she could reach, short as she was.

“What?” Sansa said and blinked. Arya gave her a look saying _‘what do you mean with **what**?’ _ “Oh, professor Baelish?”

“Yes, professor Baelish! Who else?” Arya exclaimed and made a face. “Why did he dance with you first? He some perv or something?”

Chocked at Arya’s not-so-discreet-tone, Sansa stopped them both abruptly. “Arya! He’s a professor, you can’t say that!” She hissed, feeling more than just a little protective over Petyr.

“Everyone’s thinking it.” Arya muttered and they continued their single-form dance in a circle. “He got you that broom at the beginning of term and now he dances with you first? That’s a little weird, don’t you think?” Arya, thankfully, whispered.

“Well, maybe but that doesn’t mean-“ Sansa began but Arya cut her off.

“And where did you get that dress?” She gaped and looked closer. “Bloody hell, is it _silk?!”_ Why Arya even knew what silk looked like, Sansa didn’t know. She was about to start her practiced lie when Arya spoke again, this time hissing. “Did _he_ buy you this too?!”

“What? No! _No!_ I got if from Diagon Alley and I modified it, that’s all.” It was clear that Arya didn’t really believe her.

“When were you in Diagon Alley?”

“Last summer, Joffrey took me there.” She whispered, starting to run out of new ideas for her lies.

“Joffrey bought you this?” Arya looked at her like she was mad.

“No! I bought it myself!”

Arya made a face of contemplation. “Is that why you are so bloody broke now? Because you barely had enough money to pay for the secrets I knew.” She said.

“Yes.” Sansa quickly agreed, thankful that Arya seemed to start believing it.

“But why spend so much money?”

“I…” she wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “I wanted to impress Harry.” She choked out and Arya gaped again.

“You knew him before? I thought you met for the first time just this term!”

“Well, I’d seen him around… I saw an opportunity. But we both know how it ended up with him.” This was foul play, truly, but playing with her sister’s guilt and sympathy was the only way to make her let this go. At least for now.

Sansa looked down at the floor and Arya’s arms were quickly around her waist with her cheek pressed against Sansa’s abdomen. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up in the first place. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s okay, really.” Sansa soothed and hugged her sister back as the song ended. A hand then closed around her wrist and Arya started pulling her towards the refreshments table. Jeyne was gone but Sansa thought she saw her friend dancing with some Hufflepuff girl earlier so she didn’t feel the need to look for her.

Arya poured herself some of the pineapple punch and then some of the lemon for Sansa, handing her a full cup. Arya knew that Sansa was fond of almost anything with a lemon taste. It was first then that Sansa noticed what her sister was wearing. “You’re wearing a dress!” She almost shouted but Arya’s hand was over her mouth in a flash.

“SCHHHH! Think about my reputation, will ya? It’s not a dress.” She let go of Sansa’s face and took a gulp from her punch. Sansa started to smile ridiculously wide.

“Yes it is.” She said and Arya glared at her.

“No, it’s not.” She put her cup down and crossed her arms defiantly. “It’s like… a cloak or robe or whatever. Besides, I’m wearing trousers!”

Actually, Arya’s description was quite accurate. She was wearing black trousers with some metal holster for her wand strapped by her thigh. The _‘dress’_ was dark gray and only a few pieces of fabric actually reached over her hip, but it was enough for Sansa to tease her sister. It was actually more of a cloak. Metal clasps held it together in the front and it looked a little like something a spy would wear. It even had a hood although it was currently not pulled up over Arya’s messy short hair.

“Whatever you say.” She teased. _But if you have to be so careful with your so-called reputation, maybe you shouldn’t have hugged me earlier?_ Sansa thought with a smile but didn’t say anything. “You look cool.” She said instead, deciding to spare Arya any more humiliation. Arya shrugged and clearly tried to hide her shy smile that was creeping up.

“Thanks.”

Sansa sipped her own punch, feeling a little disappointed by the drink again, and then leaned down to Arya’s ear. “You couldn’t possibly get some firewhisky, could you? Just one shot?”

Arya grinned viciously at her. “What flavor?”

-

**_Myranda_ **

_Just look at her. So damn proud of herself, trying to look like she means something. Who the fuck does she think she is? I destroyed her, ruined her. I did that. And Ramsay. She’s supposed to be broken and she dares **smile**? _

Myranda had tried to keep her eyes away from Sansa bloody Stark the entire evening but it was impossible, especially after that first _dance_ a few hours ago _._ And now Myranda stood hidden in a dark corner, scowling, just waiting for that _slut_ to feel the burning hatred of her gaze. But she didn’t. She didn’t even look Myranda’s way _once._

 _What do I have to do to get some attention, hmm?!_ Of course, Myranda Royce was no one to most. ‘Royce?’ They would say. ‘I’ve never heard of your family before.’ All they hear is _Stark, Lannister, Frey, Bolton, Tyrell._

Not even Ramsay was here to acknowledge her now. He was in the ministry for some bloody _business_ that she couldn’t know about. She _should_ get to know about it. She was the smartest strategist in the entire school, she was sure about that. She had been the one to come up with the plan to lure Sansa Stark to the shrieking shack after all. Had anyone else come up with a plan? _NO._ They had just taken part in the fun.

Ramsay used to be like her back then, however. He had wanted attention too. And when you torture someone you have all the attention your victim could ever give. Their eyes are fixed on you, filled with tears and agony. Their words are meant only for you to hear, begging you for mercy. Their entire body is at your disposal and they can’t fight you. It’s all _yours._

But now… Now Ramsay was just like the others. He was treated with respect and politeness. _Why?_ Because he meant something now. He had power. Not much, but he had some. More than Myranda. If someone was to insult him, there would be consequences, but if someone was to insult Myranda, nothing would happen. She would be told it was _petty_ of her to become angry.

No one ever cared for Myranda Royce.

She had tried to get noticed before. She had tried to do good in her classes. She had wanted to be _the best._ But there was always someone better. Always _someone_ who could brew a better potion, _someone_ who could recognize more plants and _someone_ who got along with the magical creatures better.

If she could, she would get rid of them all; all the ones who were better than her without even trying. But she knew she couldn’t. Torturing Sansa Stark was one thing, the girl was afraid of saying anything about what happened to her. But other people, they would see no problem in running to the headmaster. They wouldn’t care about Myranda Royce and she would have no power over them. Intimidation was power, and Sansa was very easily intimidated.

Myranda’s focus was drawn back to the present as she saw Sansa move. Her sister had left long ago, off doing something Myranda didn’t care about, but now Sansa’s Slytherin friend was going too. Sansa waved goodbye at the girl in the blue chiffon gown and then sat down on one of the benches against the wall.

Now. Now the little slut could feel Myranda’s eyes on her surely. For Myranda shot Sansa with all the daggers she could. But after a minute of dark glaring, Myranda had to give up. It didn’t work. The fucking Stark bitch still hadn’t even looked in her direction.

But after careful observation, Myranda noticed that the girl was fidgeting. She looked almost… _nervous._ But what the hell would she be nervous for if she hadn’t even noticed Myranda yet?

Myranda’s interest was piqued and she pressed herself closer into the darkened corner to remain unseen. Now it was not a matter of being noticed. Now it was a matter of _opportunity._ Sansa swallowed hard, making it noticeable even from across the room, and she glanced around. She looked somewhat pale even.

Myranda fought the urge to laugh. _Is the little bird getting sick or something?_

Abruptly, Sansa stood up and started walking away. Myranda couldn’t simply stand and watch her go so she followed.

More than half of the people attending the ball had already left, as it was soon midnight, but several of the older students remained to dance. It was easy for Myranda to weave her way through the crowd and not be spotted by Sansa.

She began mapping out the possible places to corner Sansa in her head. But, to Myranda’s surprise, when Sansa exited the great hall, she didn’t head for the stairs and back to the dungeons. She headed for the courtyard.

Myranda clenched her jaw and tried to rethink the situation. _I have to hurt her. I won’t let her remember this as a happy night. I will be her nightmare._

She followed, no longer concealed by the crowd but rather the darkness of the night. Neither Myranda nor Sansa used lumos to light the way. But Sansa’s footsteps on the gravel were easy to hear. Myranda herself had cast a silencing charm on her feet.

She stayed about a hundred meters back, sneaking up like a cat. _The little bird doesn’t know what’s coming._

In the darkness however, Myranda didn’t know where they were going and so it was difficult to plan anything ahead. But she didn’t care much. They were far away from the school now and not many, if any, people would be out here. It wasn’t until she saw Sansa walk through a door that she realized it was the Astronomy Tower.

 _Why would she go here?_ Myranda thought and followed through the door and up the winding wooden stairs. _Is she meeting someone?_ She leered at the thought. _What would the headmaster say? ‘Pretty little Sansa Stark is… a whore?’ Oh no, how dreadful._

She reached the top of the stairs, taking a big step over the floorboard she knew always creaked, and peered around the corner where she’s seen Sansa disappear.

Faint moonlight shone through the clouds and in through the large open balcony. Sansa stood by the edge, holding the railing and gazing out to the landscape below. Oh and that dress she wore, so elegant and expensive-looking, it infuriated Myranda more than she thought possible. _Spoiled brat, always gets the prettiest things. Even you face is the prettiest. I can’t wait to tear it all to shreds._

It looked like she was alone and Myranda could hear no sound from below so no one was coming up behind her.

It really was too easy. Sansa’s back was even turned. Myranda was almost disappointed at the lack of challenge. Nevertheless, she took out her wand and pointed it straight at her, aiming for between the shoulder blades for a good hit. She smiled. _Foolish bird, you can’t fly if I break your wings._

“Petrificus Totalus!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, lmaooo XD  
> Also, for the record, I do not support underage drinking unless in controlled environments but let's face it, Arya would have a stash of alcohol somewhere just to get into the Hogwarts black market lmao. 
> 
> New chapter will probably be up somewhere around New Years if I find the time.
> 
> I want to thank lady_sansa_stark once again for photoshopping the dress for me! Thank you so much love<333
> 
> I feel like I should have so much to say but I don't?? So lol, yeah. Let me know what you all think about this chapter!
> 
> And lastly, happy holidays to all of you! I hope you have a wonderful time with good company and plenty of treats<3 *rides away on a reindeer*


	36. Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! Sorry I've been gone for a while. I haven't had that much time to write during the holidays but I'm slowly getting a routine started. After a long time of waiting; here's a new chapter ;) 
> 
> Warning: Blood and violence

Faint moonlight shone through the clouds and in through the large open balcony. Sansa stood by the edge, holding the railing and gazing out to the landscape below. Oh and that dress she wore, so elegant and expensive-looking, it infuriated Myranda more than she thought possible. _Spoiled brat, always gets the prettiest things. Even you face is the prettiest. I can’t wait to tear it all to shreds._

It looked like she was alone and Myranda could hear no sound from below so no one was coming up behind her.

It really was too easy. Sansa’s back was even turned. Myranda was almost disappointed at the lack of challenge. Nevertheless, she took out her wand and pointed it straight at her, aiming for between the shoulder blades for a good hit. She smiled. _Foolish bird, you can’t fly if I break your wings._

“Petrificus Totalus!”

* * *

 

Sansa’s entire body froze as the incantation was spoken, loud and clear, with hate and rage tainting every syllable. Her posture was rigid and her eyes squeezed shut, her hands clutching the railing in front of her.  She could barely feel the fresh cold winds that bit her exposed skin where she stood on the balcony. She didn’t feel cold at all. She felt warm, burning, and her heart was rhythmically beating fast and steady in her chest.

 A hand landed on her shoulder, somehow heating her skin even more, and it set her heart racing. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and twisted her body around to face him. Petyr looked at her deeply, seeking confirmation, and she nodded once with a fierce determination filling her.

Her gaze drifted over Petyr’s shoulder, spotting Myranda’s body frozen solid from the spell Petyr had hit her with. Her eyes could still move though, and they burned with hatred, fixed on Sansa.

Petyr took her hand and wordlessly led her to the side, pointing his wand against Myranda at the same time, moving the girl to the balcony with a steady floating charm. It seemed to take almost no effort on his part, despite the fact that Myranda was clearly fighting to be free of the petrification.

He set her down right on the spot that Sansa had stood earlier and partly freed her from the spell, allowing her to speak and move her head, but he did not lower his wand. Not even a second had passed before Myranda spoke in a shrill voice. “Professor! Oh please help! Sansa tricked me up here!”

Sansa frowned, not sure if Myranda had reflected on the fact that it was Petyr who had rendered her immobile, or that he was currently pointing his wand against her, all while holding Sansa’s hand in a strong protective grip. It was rather clear that he had chosen a side. Not that he had ever considered there to be another side but Sansa’s.

“He won’t help you Myranda.” Sansa said, her voice surprisingly calm, and she squeezed Petyr’s hand. They were both facing her, watching her powerless form.

Myranda scowled at them both, perhaps only now realizing her situation, and swallowed hard. Was that fear in her eyes? She scoffed, trying to make her voice sound intimidating. “You can’t touch me. Ramsay will kill you both if you do. Besides, Baelish works for the ministry, for the Lannisters, and they are on Ramsay’s side. You’re so naïve to trust him Sansa.” She said with a cruel but uncertain smile on her lips.

Petyr chuckled darkly and shook his head, his hand tightening around his wand. “And you’re supposed to be a Ravenclaw. Do you really believe I would be standing here now if I was loyal to the Lannisters or your precious Bolton boy?”

Myranda’s eyes were filled with disbelief. She seemed confused. “What?”

“He won’t help you, Myranda.” Sansa repeated and Myranda’s focus shifted back to her, hate emitting from her once again.

“Let me go. Let me go and I’ll go easy on you when I have my revenge.” She spat angrily but her threats meant little to Sansa. Petyr’s fingers twitched in her hand. He didn’t like someone threatening her, no matter how powerless they were.

“You brought this on yourself.” Sansa said with in a flat voice. “You followed me here, wanting to hurt me, and I refuse to live in fear any longer.” _This is the only way for me to be safe._

Petyr then pointed his wand more steadily at Myranda, lifting her off the ground with a spell and then moving her over the railing, holding her suspended in the air. The cold hard ground was far below, almost a hundred meters.

“No! You can’t do this! You can’t kill me!” Myranda shrieked suddenly, it was like she didn’t believe what was happening. Her yells were desperate but silencing charms kept the sounds confined to the tower.

Petyr let go of Sansa’s hand and put his arm around her waist, pressing her closer to his lean side. She needed his unmoving steadiness and he knew that. He had killed before, and watched people being killed, but she hadn’t. He didn’t want her to be alone. He wanted to make this easier for Sansa in every way he could.

The screams and demands that Myranda made caused the snake in Sansa’s stomach to stir. She had been dreading this moment for almost a week now, ever since Petyr had explained the plan to her after they had returned from London. She knew it was for the best. She knew it was for her safety. But it didn’t feel right. Taking someone’s life wasn’t right, but in this situation it was necessary. And she must do what was necessary.

The feeling inside her then transformed, no longer a coiled snake, instead it was some other creature with sharp claws trying to tear its way out. It was like an eagle, flapping its wings and pecking her with its hard beak. But Sansa couldn’t let it escape. _I will use any means to be safe. I will not allow anyone to harm me anymore._ It didn’t matter that it was morally wrong.

“LET ME GO!” Myranda kept shrieking, still hanging in the air. “I will come back! I’ll come back as a ghost and tell everyone what you’ve done! _I’ll kill you both!_ ”

It was clear that Myranda hadn’t done her research like Petyr had. No spirit with evil intentions could become a ghost in Hogwarts. It was an old safety measure, reaching back hundreds of years. The spirit would instead disappear, dissolve into nothing.

Myranda was crying now but Sansa didn’t allow herself to feel sorry for her. Could she if she tried? She somehow doubted it. Myranda had done too many things to be forgiven. “Please, Sansa! Don’t let me die!” She begged.

“Sometimes people have to die for things to change. My fear for you changes now.”

With that, Petyr twisted his wand and Myranda’s throat visibly constricted, stopping her from uttering a response. Warm air was pulled out from her lungs, forming a cloud of steam in the chilly night, but she couldn’t draw in another breath. Her eyes bulged in panic and when Petyr released the petrifying-spell, her hands instantly went to her throat. She clawed at her skin, trying to reach her windpipe, believing it would help.

Her nails left angry red scratches and blood started to seep from her eyes and nose. She was now ripping skin, blood trickling from the wounds and down her chest. Veins started to show in her face, making her look almost purple.

Sansa’s eyes were glued on the scene in front of her. She didn’t know if she wanted to look away or keep watching.

But she didn’t have to think about it for very long. Myranda’s body suddenly slumped together, hanging limp, and Petyr released the levitation charm to let her fall down. A distant and dull thump was the only indication that she had hit the ground.

Sansa took a deep breath and Petyr quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to his chest. The eagle inside her was trying to tear her apart, screaming at her how terrible she was, what a monster she had become, but with fierce determination she stomped it to death. Only feathers remained. Myranda couldn’t harm her anymore, not in any way. In this world it was hunt or be hunted. She had made her choice now.

Was she supposed to feel happy now? Happy to be free? It didn’t feel like that. It just felt like a task had been dealt with and it was time to move on. It was done. She was relieved that Petyr seemed to feel the same as he pulled back to look at her. His expression was only showing concern for Sansa, but no outward happiness or glee that Myranda was dead.

Sansa gave him a little nod, showing that she was alright, and he relaxed. Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead gently and quickly flicked his wand by his side. Sansa absentmindedly watched over his shoulder as a piece of parchment and Myranda’s wand levitated over to the empty balcony. The objects were fastened to the floorboard with a silent charm. She didn’t know exactly why Petyr did that but he had promised her he would explain everything later. He had only told her a part of the plan to keep her from worrying too much.

Petyr cradled her face in his warm hands after he put his wand away. Only now did Sansa realize how cold it was. She distantly remembered feeling frost crunch under her shoes as she had walked to the tower that evening.

She shivered, wanting to go to the room of requirement and sit by the fire with Petyr, doing nothing but being, but she knew he would soon be busy. Besides, she needed to head back to her dorm. The morning wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them.

Petyr kissed her forehead again before taking her hand and leading her back to the castle, avoiding the darkened spot on the ground beneath the balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUP THAT JUST HAPPENED!  
> I tried my best to have some suspense and uncertainty last chapter and I hope I succeeded, lmao
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts on this. I know i got some satisfaction from writing it at least ;)
> 
> Special thanks to lady__sansa_stark here on AO3 for giving me the idea of a bird instead of a snake inside of Sansa! I quite like the connection of how Sansa kills the eagle inside of her and because Ravenclaw's house animal is an eagle it's like she kills Myranda too (again, lol)   
>  I really appreciate such suggestions and it helps me improve my writing, especially foreshadowing<333


	37. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time since last, I know, I know...  
> But here's a new chapter FINALLY! I hope you all enjoy ;)
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of suicide in this chapter.

**_Petyr_ **

Petyr led Sansa back to her dorm, a hand steady on her elbow. A few students were still around in the castle, most hidden in alcoves to practically suck each other’s faces off while doing what they thought was _kissing,_ and Petyr took the opportunity to call them out on the inappropriate behavior while making sure they saw who he was escorting. He and Sansa needed to be seen in order to secure their alibi. If people saw them wandering the halls, how could either of them have been in the Astronomy tower? The thought of them plotting murder was simply _unthinkable._

He stopped outside the hidden door to the Slytherin common room and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. He dreaded leaving her like this, after what they had done, but he had no doubt that the Headmaster would soon be calling on him. There was no time to stay with Sansa, no matter how much he wanted to do so.

He couldn’t fully interpret her emotions as she gazed into his eyes but he felt fairly certain she wasn’t regretting what they had done. You had to be ruthless in this world and fighting fire with fire was the only option. She knew it was for the best. The ends justified the means in this case.

He could only hope she understood that killing was a _last_ resort only. Not even Petyr himself thought of murder as a common way out, even though he had used it several times. He hoped Sansa knew of the dangers. The last thing he wanted was for her to lose the little innocence she had left. He didn’t want her to lose her soul and submit to the allure of the Dark Arts. Many wizards and witches has gone down that path; tried one unforgivable only to sink down into the depths of dark magic.

Even though his spell wasn’t an unforgivable, it was dark and it was cruel. Despite the fact that _he_ had been the one to cast it, witnessing it could pull you in just as much. He needed to speak with her as soon as possible after seeing Dumbledore, however long that took.

After making sure she was safely inside the common room, he walked away with long confidant steps, but his stride held no particular promise of a destination. It looked like he was merely patrolling the halls, aimlessly roaming. A mask of calm, control and content easily slid over his features. No one could spot any hint of worry.

As he had assumed, it didn’t take awfully long until Minerva approached him, on the 2:nd floor, with her own mask to conceal her inner thoughts. Her facade was easily seen through however- -sadness and something resembling guilt shining deeply in her eyes and her mouth was set in a thin line.

“The headmaster has called to a meeting. It’s urgent.” She spoke curtly as she stopped in front of him. He let his hands, that had been clasped behind his back, fall to his sides and a well-practiced expression of concern took over his face.

“Minerva? What’s the matter?” He said, always the perfect actor, and let the question hang thickly in the air. Her head tilted down a fraction, her proud and strong Gryffindor stature faltering for the moment.

“Just follow me.” She said and he did so without further inquiry.

Not all of the staff was assembled in the Headmaster’s office - which had been transfigured into a larger room with a long table in the middle - but quite a few were missing. It was reasonable of course. They couldn’t exactly leave all the students to tend to themselves, especially this night. _Murder and a Christmas ball, that’s a handful indeed._

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, his wrinkled hands clasped on the surface in front of him and a distant look in his eyes instead of his normal twinkle. Snape sat to his right, scowling at the wall across from him, his face as if set in stone. By his side sat the plump professor Sprout, picking her dirty nails while fighting a yawn. She had left the ball early and had most likely been awoken in order to attend. Next in the row was professor Hooch, the quidditch teacher. She merely watched Sprout’s calloused and dirty fingertips with slight disgust.

The seat to Dumbledore’s left was reserved for Minerva and she briskly walked over, slumping down in her chair. Beside her sat Flitwick, the Charms professor, his face scrunched up in thought and his leg lightly swinging over the edge of his chair. He was a dwarf so his feet were nowhere near touching the floor. He often had to jump up into chairs.

Most of them looked rather uncaring and yet there was a sense of worry lingering in the room, although none seemed to want to be the first to address it.

Petyr sat down beside Flitwick, in the only left-over seat, and looked around with feinted confusion. “What is the meaning of this, Albus?” He asked cautiously, deciding that the occasion did not need the formality of using his title _headmaster_. No one minded as there were only colleagues in the room.

“I am afraid I have some rather grievous news...” Dumbledore sighed, looking quite lost for a while before he recovered. He was the Headmaster and needed to act like he knew what to do, even if this situation was not of the ordinary, nor pleasant, kind. “Miss Myranda Royce has been found dead outside the Astronomy tower.”

Sprout gasped out loud, her dirty hand flying up to cover her mouth in shock, and Hooch uttered a whispered _no_ while blinking stupidly. Snape’s head jerked towards Dumbledore, glaring in disbelief, and Minerva bent her head down, having known the matter of the meeting earlier. _Perhaps she was the one who found the girl even,_ Petyr thought, almost regrettably as he pretended to be shocked by the information of the girl’s death.

Flitwick however, barely moved at all. His leg merely stilled, halting its swinging. Dumbledore spoke up again after swallowing stiffly. “We have reason to believe it was… suicide.”

Flitwick sucked in a sharp breath and carefully lifted his gaze up to the headmaster. “Myranda Royce?” His voice was a whisper but they could all hear him. They had been waiting for his reaction. He was the Head of Ravenclaw House after all.

“Yes.” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m sorry Filius.”

The dwarf was close to tears and soon drops fell down, soaking into his robes. The others watched him sadly, all thinking the same thing. _He feels as if he has failed his duty._

The small stab of emotion Petyr felt in his chest was quickly pressed down. He wasn’t sorry for what he had done, perhaps he somewhat regretted the way his actions affected those around him, but he wasn’t sorry. Myranda had certainly done a good job in fooling the staff of Hogwarts into believing she was a good girl, but Petyr knew what she had done. _We’re all players in a game, and I don’t intend to let me or Sansa lose._

“Oh Filius…” McGonagall choked out, tears staining her cheeks, and she leaned over to embrace the small man. He let himself be cradled in her arms while shaking his head, as if willing it to not be true.

“I didn’t even know.” He whispered.

“No one did, Filius.” Dumbledore answered.

“How do we know it was in fact suicide?” Snape asked, his voice a great deal more gentle than usual. Even a sour man like him knew when to offer sympathy, even if he wasn’t good at it. It was clear that Snape was uncomfortable with the tears and Petyr felt the same. They were both willing to talk more logically and not emotionally. Perhaps it was a Slytherin thing, Petyr wasn’t sure.

“A note was found, or a letter might be a more accurate description, as well as her wand. I can see no reason as to why she would leave it there if it wasn’t self-inflicted.” Dumbledore mumbled, glancing at Flitwick and McGonagall to assess if it was alright to start talking about it so soon. Filius seemed to be lost in his guilt-filled mind but Minerva was listening.

“What did the note say?” Petyr proceeded gently even though he knew very well what it said. He had been the one to place it in the tower after all.

“Apparently it was a letter, to Ramsay Bolton, inviting him to spend the Christmas ball with Miss Royce. However, it seems the letter was returned with no answer. A broken heart can be devastatingly hard to cope with for someone so young.”

“Has the letter been traced? Can we know for certain? It seems odd that something so simple would affect the girl so gravely.” Snape said, suspicious as always, and it seemed more of the professors at the table started paying attention. Hooch straightened her back, recovering from the shock with determination, and Sprout wiped a stray tear from her cheek before cradling her hands in her lap and focusing on the headmaster.

“No, not yet. We are waiting for the arrival of a Ministry official. This is a serious matter and it must be investigated accordingly.” Dumbledore shook his head lightly. “A thing such as this hasn’t happened for over a hundred years…” He whispered, almost to himself.

“Petyr, do you know who they might send?” McGonagall asked, her tears drying, as she rubbed Flitwick’s back soothingly.

“I believe their choice of investigator would be Roose Bolton.” Petyr said and instantly felt Snape’s eyes glaring at him.

“Are they so daft to send a man whose own _son_ is suspected to be the cause of the girl’s death?” He exclaimed and Flitwick choked out a sob at his harsh voice.

“Severus…” Dumbledore warned softly and Petyr continued.

“The Ministry isn’t exactly known for their wit, although you have to give them some credit. It might seem foolish, but Roose is the Head of the Investigatory Department. He knows what he’s doing, and this unfortunate incident is no one’s fault.” _No matter how much I want to see Ramsay rot in Azkaban, he can’t be charged for this._

“Who found her? Please tell me it was not a student…” Sprout said, her voice thick from tears.

“No, not a student. The groundkeeper found her while doing his usual rounds.” The headmaster replied.

“Hodor? Oh, poor man…”

“Indeed. He didn’t seem to fully understand what had happened but Minerva found him as he wandered into the castle. He was awfully confused but eventually showed Minerva to the scene.” The half-giant was not known for being particularly clever. He could only speak one word, that being his name, and only kept his job as groundkeeper because he did what he was asked with no questions. If Dumbledore asked him to tear down the castle brick by brick, he would do so, or at least try until his dying day.

Suddenly, the door opened magically and Roose Bolton strode in with heavy steps, full of authority. His face was an expressionless mask with disinterest being the only thing displayed in his eyes. He stopped by the end of the table, looking straight ahead at Dumbledore with a steely gaze. “Headmaster.” He greeted, his voice monotone and bored. “I have recently been thinking of visiting the school to see if it has changed from my own time, but it seems I am now here for an entirely different matter. Astronomy tower, was it?”

Dumbledore looked displeased at Roose’s direct words but he answered nonetheless. “Yes… Astronomy tower.”

“Very well. I shall direct the aurors there to gather any necessary information.” _So far, it’s all according to plan,_ Petyr thought smugly but quickly turned his attention back to Roose as he spoke up again. “Baelish, I have matters to discuss with you.”

Petyr raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise and then nodded towards Dumbledore. “If you’ll excuse me.” He rose and followed Bolton out of the room.

-

“Is that wise, Bolton?” Petyr asked, feeling panic building behind his sealed façade.

“Cersei was quite determined. I shall be taking both Stark girls back to Winterfell as I leave in the morning. You ought to speak with the eldest as soon as possible. I was told she… trusts you.”

 _Fuck._ This wasn’t according to plan. Not at all.

Petyr had counted on having one last day to go over things with Sansa before she had to go to the Lannisters home the Red Keep over the holidays but now it seemed as if she was to leave in only a few hours. _Shit._ And she was going to _Winterfell,_ not the Red Keep.

Would she be alright? Gods, he hated having to leave her so abruptly. He had to pass on instructions to her and there wasn’t nearly enough time.

“Yes. The girl was quite easily fooled into thinking of me as her friend. I’ll speak with her.” He forced himself to smirk with his usual smugness and then headed towards the dungeons for the second time tonight, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was unfamiliar and he found that he did not like it.

-

“The Boltons have Winterfell. That’s not my home anymore.” She said and backed away, shaking her head in disbelief. He reached out to her but she shied away. _I’m so sorry my love._

“Sansa…”

“You can’t let them take me, Petyr. Please.” She pleaded and he clenched his eyes shut. His knuckles turned white as he curled his hands into fists. _I wish I could stop it but I am powerless._ “I can’t go back there. Ramsay will be there, what if he knows? What if he knows what we did?”

His eyes snapped up to her and he stepped closer, too fast for her to avoid him. He cradled her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “He won’t know. No one does. Only speaking of it will make it real.”

The worry and fear in her eyes turned into a blazing anger. “So I’m just supposed to pretend it never happened? How am I supposed to do such a thing?” She exclaimed and yanked his hands down by taking hold of his wrists. He was more than thankful that he had cast the muffliato charm after closing the door to his office.

“No, Sansa listen to me.” He wrestled his hands out of her grip and placed them on her shoulders. He was forceful but he needed to shake her out of her emotional turmoil. Mistakes could not be made in these dangerous times. “I am not asking you to deny it. It happened, we did it, we killed her. But I am asking you to not delve too deep into your emotions. Pull away. Look at it from a distance. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, tears still streaming down her face.

“I wish I could persuade them to let you stay at Hogwarts and not go with Roose but you know I can’t. It would turn far too much attention to us. Obeying their orders is all we can do for now. Ramsay won't dare to do you any harm while his father is around.” He kissed her forehead. “I promise it will be alright in the end, my love.”

She sniffled and wiped the last of her tears off her cheeks before straightening her posture in determination. _That’s my girl._

“Okay. Okay…” She took a deep breath. “How long will I have to stay at Winterfell? Doesn’t Cersei want me and Arya back in the Red Keep?”

“Bolton mentioned that there would be a New Year’s celebration. I assume you and your sister would have returned to the Lannisters by then. I will be there as well. I’m guessing most of the council of the Ministry will receive invitations.”

“Alright. Earlier, you mentioned that I should gather evidence to take out the Lannisters. How exactly will I be able to… umm… catch Cersei and Jaime in… the act.” She made a disgusted face, as did Petyr. _I understand the desire to keep the bloodline pure, but your own brother Cersei?_ He wanted to gag.

“There is a spell that allows you to remove a memory from your mind. If you manage to see them, you can save the memory in a phial. If you pour the memory into a pensive, others can view it. I will be able to spread it around in the Ministry once it’s been collected. ”

She nodded in approval, although the disgust was still clear on her face. “What’s the spell?”

“I’m afraid it’s quite advanced and there’s no time to teach you. I will take out the memory when you get back in January.”

“Okay.”

The room was eerily silent for a long time as they simply stared at each other. They both let their eyes roam each other’s features, as if burning them into their minds. Because what if they never saw each other again? What if something went wrong? They were both thinking it but none dared speak.

A loud _‘crack’_ was suddenly heard in the room and their attention snapped toward the sound. There stood a ragged-looking house elf, wringing its hands together in nervousness. Sansa stiffened and tried to take a step away from Petyr, as they stood far too close than what would be appropriate for a teacher and student, but Petyr held her still in his arms. A house elf was sworn to secrecy; to never reveal what its master did or said. Because Petyr was a professor at the school, and the elf was bound to Hogwarts, Petyr had the authority as a master.

“Tilly has readied your belongings miss. Tilly is most pleased to have served.” The elf said and disappeared with another _‘crack’._

Petyr turned his head back to Sansa and after gazing into her eyes longingly, he captured her lips with his, savoring her taste in the kiss. He prayed to all the gods that it was not the last time he would do so. She responded eagerly and with just as much desperation but eventually he pulled away. “Bolton will be done speaking to the headmaster by now. We must take our leave."

_Please let her be safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's kind of short (and mostly dialogue) but I haven't got to writing much lately. School is being a bitch, lmao. I hope to be able to write more after some tests and assignments are done but I'm guessing it might take a few weeks until you get a new update. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this! Please comment and leave kudos, it means a lot and inspires me to write more.
> 
> Much love xoxo


	38. Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII!!  
> Ok, so I'm not super happy with this chapter and it's not super long but I figured I should stop over-thinking it. I decided to post and just move on so i don't keep you all waiting forever, lol.  
> As you know, school has been taking up a lot of my time but I have holiday for a week now so I'll probably be able to write some then. I'm hoping to post the next chapter in the coming week.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, even if I'm not super happy with how it turned out<3

Sansa had, just for a second, felt a surge of happiness at the thought of returning to Winterfell. It had been almost two years since she had even _seen_ her childhood home and her heart longed for the familiarity she remembered. For only a second, she found hope that everything would turn out alright. However, as Roose apparated her and Arya into the main hall of Winterfell Castle, her hopes were crushed into millions of shards that cut her open and left stinging wounds that would probably never heal.

Winterfell as she remembered it was gone. _Completely gone._

The main hall, which had once been filled with warm laughter and the scent of home cooked food, was now empty and barren. The hearth was dark and cold, the decorative tapestries ripped down, the comfortable furniture removed, and all had been replaced with a plain wooden dining table and matching chairs in the middle of the room. It was nothing like before.

The very air was different. It was no longer warm with a welcoming embrace, instead it was bitingly cold. Sansa recognized that chill anywhere. _Dementors. They brought dementors into Winterfell._

Her sorrow flared into anger and she held onto Arya’s hand tightly. The crushing grip seemed to snap Arya out of her shock from seeing her home so different and she lashed out at Roose. “What the fuck? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

She lunged in his direction but Sansa was quick to yank her sister back. She wanted nothing more than to see Arya rip that bastard to pieces but she could not allow that to happen.

Arya stumbled backwards and glared back at Sansa, the hatred being redirected to her. _Please Arya. Please don’t do anything stupid._ Sansa tried to speak with her eyes. _We’ll get back at them. We’ll have our revenge, just trust me._

The only thing that Arya really understood from Sansa’s look was _“don’t do anything stupid”_ as she had been a recipient of that look many times. She looked down at the bare stone floor, an angry tear falling down onto it. It almost froze as soon as it hit the ground.

Roose cleared his throat and fixed the cuffs by the sleeves of his coat. He was still on his guard after Arya’s outburst but didn’t show it.

“My wife Walda will show you to your rooms. I have matters to attend.” And with those words, he disappeared with a resonating _‘crack’._

Only now did the Stark girls see the lady who approached them from the hallway. She was rather plump, her face round with red apple cheeks, and she held heavy furs in her arms. “It’s nice to meet you.” She said in a surprisingly high and squeaky voice when she was closer.

Arya mumbled something incoherent under her breath and Sansa only nodded in answer. They had no desire to be particularly friendly.

Walda held out the furs and nodded for them to take them. “Go ahead. It’s quite cold now that the dementors are roaming the grounds but Roose tells me they’ll be gone soon.”

 “Thanks.” Sansa muttered and took the furs, wrapping one around herself and handing the second one to Arya.

“Dementors?” Arya asked, frowning with a mixture of anger and confusion at Walda.

“I’ll tell you later.” Sansa said in a low voice, almost a whisper, and Arya snapped her focus to her sister. She scrutinized her for a moment, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, before nodding in reluctant acceptance.

“I’ll show you up then.” Walda said and smiled uneasily. It seemed she wasn’t any more comfortable in Winterfell than Arya and Sansa now were.

Sansa had assumed she would recognize where Walda was taking them but she was devastatingly wrong as they walked around the hallways. Not only had the Boltons removed all memory of the Stark’s life here, but the entire structure of the mansion had been changed. Doors that Sansa had remembered from her childhood were gone, stairways were in different places and the corridors were like a maze. It was like she was a stranger, a newcomer, someone who didn’t belong here. And yet, it was undoubtedly Winterfell.

“Here you are then. You both best sleep some more, it’s only 5 in the morning still. You can skip breakfast if you want but lunch is at 12 according to the house elves.” Walda said with a hesitant smile and closed the door, leaving the girls in a middle-sized room with a small window and two plain beds with dark grey bedding.

Only a minute after the door had clicked shut, Arya slammed her fist into the stone wall. She hit it again and again, leaving red stains on the bricks as her knuckles hit the rough surface. She screamed, hurling curse word after curse word at everyone and no one at the same time. Sansa could only stare as the blood started trickling down the wall but eventually her brain seemed to catch up on what was happening.

She stepped forward and quickly wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling her away and holding her in place. “Let me GO!” Arya screamed.

“NO! Stop this now, Arya! It won’t do any good!”

But Arya didn’t stop. She thrashed around in Sansa’s arms, wanting to hit something; _everything._ She wanted to inflict pain on those who had done all this.

Sansa managed to wrestle over to the bed and throw Arya down but she was quickly lunging herself up again and Sansa was forced to lay all her weight on her. “STOP IT!”

Sansa knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her back much longer. Arya was almost stronger than she was and far more accustomed to any sort of fighting or wrestling. She needed to make Arya think clearly. There was only one thing to do.

She pulled back quickly and with more force than necessary, slapped her right across her face. The smacking sound echoed around the room but after that it was eerily silent. Arya had stilled, her mouth agape and her cheek red and slightly swollen. Sansa’s palm was stinging and she imagined that Arya’s cheek did the same, only much worse. She winced at the damage she had done.

Carefully, she turned Arya’s face upwards so she could look at her and then cast a whispered muffliato.

“Listen to me.” She began, her voice shaking with adrenaline and unshed tears. “We can’t resist them, it will only get worse if we do. We have to do as they say. You have to keep your emotions from showing and you can’t let them see that they are getting to you.”

Arya stared up at her, an angry sob escaping her lips. “But _why_? Why can’t we fight back, Sansa?”

Sansa sighed. She wished she could tell her everything. “Because it won’t help. We can’t take them out by brute force.”

Arya frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it. Are you saying you are _planning_ to ‘take them out’?”

Sansa removed her weight from Arya and sat down beside her. Arya really was smarter and more observant than people gave her credit for. “I never said that.”

“But you implied it.” Arya straightened.

“I don’t know what to do yet, but I will, okay? I will figure something out, but things are so complex you can’t just attack someone on a whim.” That was _sort of_ the truth.

“Is this what you think about all day?” Arya huffed in an almost-laugh. Sansa couldn’t help but smile.

“I guess.” She shrugged before turning serious again. “But you have to promise me to keep yourself in check. We will take back all they have stolen from us, but we have to wait. Promise me, Arya.”

Arya bit her lip and looked down in her lap before nodding, looking a little grumpy. “I promise, even though I want to beat them all bloody.”

“I know… Now, let me have a look at your cheek.” She said and started to mutter basic healing spells to reduce the swelling. Soon after, both sisters were asleep on the same bed, huddled together for both warmth and comfort.

-

They did not leave their room until dinner, despite Walda practically begging for them to come out and eat lunch. They were both reluctant to discover what more had changed in their childhood home. They weren’t exactly eager to see the Boltons again either.

They dressed in warmer clothing and Sansa was just about to open the door when Arya grabbed her arm gently and cast a quick muffliato. “What are dementors?”

Sansa was momentarily stunned. “What?”

Arya huffed in frustration. “You said you would explain!”

“Oh, right…” She cleared her throat. Arya wasn’t going to be happy about this. “Dementors are creatures that thrive on darkness and despair. They drain hope and happy memories from you, they drain your soul for as long as possible until there is nothing left.”

Arya stared at her. “Are you serious?” Sansa nodded sadly. “What the fuck? What are those _things_ doing here?”

“They used to guard Azkaban but the Ministry has released them, only temporarily according to them, because they are looking for someone. I don’t know who.” She _did_ know; Daenerys Targaryen, a young woman long dead. Petyr was the one who had told her all of this of course, but Arya couldn’t be allowed to know too much. It was best to be somewhat vague and avoid too much suspicion. _I wish I could be honest with you, Arya, I really do._

“Why do you know that? I haven’t seen anything like that in _the Prophet_ or any other magazines.” Arya almost hissed.

“Margaery told me. It slipped her tongue, I wasn’t supposed to know. You’re now the only person I’ve passed this info along to, so you better be quiet about it too.” She warned and Arya nodded, still a bit shocked.

“So that’s why it’s so cold? I mean, it’s always been cold in the north but not like this. This cold is biting. It doesn’t feel normal.” Arya said and Sansa nodded in answer. Arya’s anger flared again. “They’ve ruined everything… How dare they bring that kind of dark magic to our _home?!_ I’ll wring their necks!”

“Arya!” Sansa scolded before she did anything rash.

“I know, I know… Later.” Arya said and scowled at the floor viciously. “ _Later.”_

They walked out the door together, hands locked with each other’s in an iron grip.

-

“Ah, Sansa, I have missed you terribly.” The voice sent a cold shiver down Sansa’s spine and she lowered her eyes at the sight of Ramsay standing by the dining table, arms outstretched as if he expected an embrace.

“Ramsay…” Arya almost growled and moved into a defensive position. Ramsay shifted his eyes to her and smiled cruelly. He opened his mouth to say something but when Roose stepped into the room he was interrupted.

“Enough. Sit. Eat.” Roose said, eloquent as ever, and sat down at the head of the table. Ramsay followed suit after bowing mockingly at the Stark girls and sat down by his father’s left side. Walda, who had entered with Roose, sat down by his right. Arya and Sansa sat down beside her.

Roose snapped his fingers and the dinner instantly appeared on the table. They all ate in silence and Roose was the first to break it after he had finished his meal.

“You did not join us for lunch.” He stated and stared blankly at Arya and Sansa. Arya glared back for only a moment before lowering her gaze to her half-eaten food. She let Sansa deal with conversation. She had always been better at that.

“Forgive us, we were still tired from the ball and neither of us had gotten much sleep. We will be sure to join you for other meals.” Sansa said quickly and looked down respectfully. After living with the Lannisters, she had learned to be submissive and demure. Those of power did not like being questioned or challenged.

“See that you do. As your host I do not wish you to starve.” Roose said, clearly not caring at all, before clearing his throat. “Now, the Headmaster has asked me to forward this information to you. The rest of the school were informed before leaving with the Hogwarts Express today.”

Sansa forced herself not to tense. She had a feeling where this was going.

“The night of the ball, Myranda Royce was found dead.” He said with no emotion. 

Arya’s head snapped up. “What? What do you mean with ‘dead’?”

“Dead as in _no longer living._ ”

“I know what you mean!” Arya snapped. “But how?”

“Arya.” Sansa scolded softly.

“According to the evidence; broken heart. She threw herself off the Astronomy Tower.” Roose said and sent a glare in the direction of his son. Ramsay’s jaw was clenched tightly. Sansa did not know exactly what evidence Petyr had planted but she could draw her own conclusions from this. Somehow, Petyr had convinced the Ministry that Myranda’s death had something to do with Ramsay.

She almost winced as she thought back on Myranda's death but forced the reaction down quickly. She didn’t regret what she had done, but it wasn’t pleasant to hear about it either.

Ramsay took a gulp of his goblet and set it down with a heavy hand. “Well, enough of this unpleasant news. Sansa,” he called with a smile, “it’s a lovely evening, isn’t it? Perhaps you would like to join me for a walk?”

Sansa forced herself to give a small smile. “No thank you. I’m still rather tired and I would like to-“

“Nonsense.” Ramsay cut her off with a wave of his hand. “You will have plenty of time to rest later. You will both be staying here until after Christmas after all.” He addressed both Sansa and Arya. “Come.”

Sansa shot a look at Arya who gave a small nod in response. She would follow them, Sansa knew. There was no way Arya would let her go alone with Ramsay anywhere. That was the only comfort she had as Ramsay looped his arm around hers and escorted her out the hall. She heard Arya excuse herself from the table just as she rounded the corner.

He led her through narrow hallways, deeper and deeper into the dark castle. He didn’t speak, he only smiled viciously every time she accidently met his eyes.

They finally arrived outside a large oak door and Ramsay unlocked it with a wave of his wand before opening it and leading her inside. She had no choice but to obey him.

It was bitingly cold, more so than in the rest of the castle, and Sansa knew that dementors were near. Her heart started thumping loudly in her chest and she tried to steady her breathing, unwilling to allow Ramsay seeing her distress.

They stood in a dark corridor, something foul and rotten was in the air, and only when Ramsay cast lumos did Sansa see that thick iron bars were lined up on either side of her. She was sure her heart had stopped completely now.

Cages. There were dozens of cages around her. She took a shocked step back, her shoes sticking in the half-dried blood that covered the floor. _He’s going to lock me up._

She turned and tried to yank the door back open, wanting to flee, but was unable to. It was locked and warded. She looked around desperately, realizing that Arya probably hadn’t had enough time to slip inside before the door had closed behind her and Ramsay.

“Now now, you didn’t think I would lock you in one of the cages, did you?” Ramsay said suddenly and grabbed her arm to twist her around. His grip on her elbow was sure to leave bruises.

“Wh.. What?” She stammered in confusion as e started to lead her further down the corridor. The cages never seemed to end.

He laughed. “The cages aren’t for you! These are for my dogs but I could have one made for you if you would like, of course.”

She shook her head quickly. She could no longer hide her fear and despite Ramsay’s assurance that the cages weren’t for her, she didn’t get any calmer. Why would she? Ramsay couldn’t be trusted. His word meant nothing.

Sansa looked around hesitantly, shaking from both the cold and from fear. Eventually she said, “I can’t see any dogs.”

She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. In fact, she didn’t even realize it until Ramsay barked out a laugh. “Oh, my new pet had some fun with them and accidently played too rough. Only a few survived but it makes no matter. The new one is much better than the older ever were.”

He stopped when they reached another door, looking just like the one they had entered through. Sansa began to wonder if they had turned around at some point. Her mind was not in the right place. She was feeling dizzy from the stench of blood and the heavy air. Every breath stung in her lungs.

Ramsay pointed the glowing tip of his wand to the last cage and Sansa could see a dark figure inside, huddled in the corner, shivering visibly. Ramsay whistled loudly, causing both Sansa and the creature in the cage to jump. “Come on! Don’t be shy!”

The creature crawled forward and as Sansa tried to step back, Ramsay quickly grabbed the back of her neck and forced her closer, making her fall down on her knees. Pain shot through her legs as she hit the stone floor and she cried out, tears falling down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying.

The creature crawled closer and when the light finally reached its form, Sansa’s eyes widened in shock.

“Theon.” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* THEON? lol, I'm sure most of you saw that coming as Ramsay started talking about his fucking dogs.
> 
> Please review and leave kudos, it means so much to me! Love you<3
> 
> Oh, and the answer as to how the Boltons changed the interior structure of Winterfell; Magic.  
> Magic can do anything, lmao


	39. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, sorry about that, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it nonetheless. There's certainly some foreshadowing going on...

_“Theon.” She whispered._

Theon winced noticeably and jerked back, crawling into the corner again. He hugged his knees close to his body and seemed to try to become part of the wall itself. He was terrified, that much was clear.

“N..No… Not Theon. Reek. It’s Reek.” He stammered, his voice gravelly, like he had screamed too loudly and his vocal cords had not given any time to heal.

“Don’t just cower, Reek! You ought to show our guest more respect.” Ramsay said and suddenly grabbed a fistful of Sansa’s hair, pushing her closer to the iron bars. “Come closer now. Take a good look at her.”

Theon immediately obeyed, dragging forward until he was mere centimeters away from Sansa’s face. His eyes were dark and crazed and yet somehow filled with an overwhelming fear, his face was covered in small cuts and scratches, his clothing was so torn that not much was left; it hung limply on his scraggly frame and just like the floor, he was caked with dirt and dried blood.

But worst was the smell. The pungent, rotten scent of decay was stinging Sansa’s nostrils. She was trying to pull away but Ramsay was unrelenting, his fingers digging into her scalp as he pressed her forward. Theon inched closer, pressing his face between the bars so that his nose touched her cheek. He inhaled deeply and a shudder coursed through him before his tongue slipped out from between his cracked lips to lick up her tears.

Sansa whimpered, desperately fighting against Ramsay’s hold on her, as she felt Theon’s coarse tongue drag against her skin. She didn’t understand why this was happening. What had Ramsay done to him to make him act like this? Whatever had happened, this wasn’t the boy she knew from her childhood. This wasn’t Theon; eldest son of Balon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Isles, the best friend of Robb.

Ramsay suddenly yanked her back, her scalp burning as her hair was pulled, seconds before Theon’s teeth snapped shut where her face had just been. Sansa cried out and fell backwards, her hands slipping on the filthy ground so that she landed flat on her back. As quickly as she could, she stood up and pressed herself against the bars opposite to Theon. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible. _He tried to bite me. What kind of person does that?_

She was fighting a losing battle against the bile rising in her throat and soon she found herself heaving, her dinner spilling out on the floor, making it even filthier. Ramsay didn’t even seem to notice.

“Did I give you permission?!” He hissed and Theon who cowered back, whining like a beaten dog.

Theon made a strangled noise, his body curling up on itself. The only sounds were Sansa’s choked back sobs until Theon finally spoke. “Kill me.”

Ramsay huffed a laugh. “What did you say?”

“KILL ME!” Theon then shouted, his voice breaking in the end from the pain.

“You’re no good to me dead. We need you!” Ramsay answered with a sadistic sort of glee. Sansa winced and pressed closer to the bars. She remembered Ramsay saying those exact words to her in the shrieking shack. _We need you. We need you. We need you…_ She heard it echo her head, over and over again, making her dizzy.

What did Ramsay even want with Theon? She knew that she had been a part of a plan to get rid of Harold Hardyng, as well as to be a victim of Ramsay and Myranda’s torture, but why was Theon important now?

“Please…” Theon whined again, writhing around, looking like merely breathing was pure agony.

Ramsay only smiled and kicked the cage, making a loud clanging noise. Theon held his hands over his ears and started to sob. “Only two days left now, Reek!” Ramsay said and turned away.

_Two days left until what?_

Ramsay grabbed Sansa by the arm just as Theon started screaming. He screamed louder and louder by each passing second as Ramsay started leading her toward the heavy oaken door. His screams sounded painful, excruciating, and Sansa realized his voice must have broken because of screams like these. She had never heard something filled with so much anguish.

As the door closed behind them, the screams were shut out completely. No one would ever know what was in there if they didn’t go inside. It was a frightening thought. 

She took a deep breath and suddenly noticed that they were outside, in the courtyard. The freezing air filled her lungs, stinging every part of her exposed skin as they walked, but she welcomed it. It was better than the stench from the kennels. Ramsay was still holding her by the elbow tightly, sure to leave bruises in the morning. Even more places of her body ached; her knees from hitting the stone floor, her hands from catching herself and her scalp from being manhandled by Ramsay. _At least I don’t have a bite mark to boot._ She thought bitterly.

“Sansa!” She suddenly heard Arya scream and she saw her running across the courtyard. In no time Arya was beside her, yanking her from Ramsay’s grip and holding her wand pointed at his chest. “Get the fuck off her!”

Ramsay did not seem fazed by being held at wand point, instead, he laughed. Gods, Sansa hated that laugh.

“Or what? She won’t be safe just because she’s away from me! If you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.” Sansa was sure she could feel her blood freeze from his words.

Arya took a step back, holding Sansa behind her, and steeled her expression into fierce determination. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Ah, but you should.”

The longer they stood there, face to face with Ramsay in the approaching darkness of the evening, the colder it felt. Sansa's very bones felt covered in ice and a sudden billowing movement by the entrance of the courtyard sent her heart into an erratic hammering.

The ghostlike figure of a dementor hovered closer and closer, making the air crackle from the dropping temperature, and more of them followed closely behind. They were coming in from all sides, creeping closer, surrounding them. Sansa tugged at Arya’s arm fruitlessly. 

“Come on! We have to go!” Her voice was panicked, begging, but Arya only stared at the dementor, her eyes wide and disbelieving. She was in too much of a shock to move, just like Sansa had been in her first encounters with the dark creatures. “Arya please, let’s go! NOW!”

Sansa looked around, trying to find a way out, and suddenly locked eyes with Ramsay. That horrible gleam of pleasure at their fear sparkled in his eyes and a cruel grin of satisfaction grew on his face. He seemed at ease with the dementors, like he was controlling them, but Sansa did not know how. She didn’t want to stay to find out.

Casting a patronus was not an option. Ramsay would see and he would demand to know how she learnt that spell. He would torture her if he had to, Sansa had no doubt about that. Besides, it was too late to do anything now.

The pull started in her chest and she felt how her breath was forced from her lungs. Her happy thoughts and memories was being ripped from her, replaced with darkness and despair. It was so painful and she wanted to scream for help, for Petyr to come save her again, but she was unable to. Petyr wasn’t even there. He could do nothing for her. He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe, and now he wasn’t _t_ _here._

The feeling of her very soul being torn from her body was excruciating , like slowly being crushed, and she felt her body go limp as it got too painful to keep fighting , but just as she fell to the ground she felt a rush of something inside her. The dementor released its grip and what little happiness it hadn’t already devoured was shoved back into her chest with a snap, like the crack of a whip.

She was laying on the stone cold ground, gasping, arms wrapped around her body protectively. She was vaguely aware of the dementors’ fast retreat and Arya lying beside her, motionless.

“What were you thinking?” Sansa recognized Roose’s low menacing voice but she could not see him. It was too dark now. “We cannot allow the Minister to see them in this condition! You’re lucky you’re the only one who can tame that _thing_ in the kennels, otherwise I would have killed you long ago.”

More voices followed but Sansa could not hear them clearly. She succumbed to the darkness and let it cradle her in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh, intrigued? I hope so, lmao.
> 
> Please leave comments on your thoughts<3


	40. Hurting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter!! I hope you enjoy, even though it's not very long<3

She woke up with a start on the lumpy bed in her chamber, her body sore and heart racing. She gasped, filling her lungs with shuddering mouthfuls of air as the memories returned to her. _Dementors, Theon, Ramsay, Arya…_

_Arya!_

Panicked, her head snapped over to her sister’s bed and upon seeing the form huddled underneath a woolen blanket, she practically leaped out of bed. She was not however, prepared for how weak her legs would be and she collapsed with a painful thump.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out in agony as her bruised knees made impact with the stone floor. Tears prickled her eyes, threatening to escape, but she ignored them and clumsily crawled over to her sister’s side.

She reached up and carefully shifted the blanket to reveal Arya’s sleeping face. It was not difficult to tell her sleep was troubled. _With good reason._

Her eyes were scrunched shut, her lips chapped and dry, her hair a muddy mop on her head and her fingertips were tinged with blue from frost damage. _Why has no one healed her?_ Sansa asked herself before she recalled just who their hosts were. She realized that neither Roose nor Ramsay would care about her injuries as long as she was alive.

 _But Roose_ did _technically save us, both from Ramsay and the dementors…_ She quickly shook her head —earning her a throbbing headache — to rid herself of that thought. Roose was by no means what you would call a knight in shining armor. He may not be sadistic like Ramsay, but he was no better either. He was ruthlessly cruel and manipulative, not caring for others in the slightest.

A whimper caught her attention and she saw Arya’s eyes crack open. Arya groaned in pain and curled in on herself, her hands disappearing underneath the blanket to wrap around her knees. She swallowed thickly and released a raspy breath before whispering, “What happened?”

After a moment filled with deafening silence, Sansa came to the conclusion Arya should recover before having the events revealed.

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that now. You’re safe, just tell me where it hurts and I’ll do my best to heal you, alright?”

Sansa tried her best to sound comforting and strong, like their mother always had, but she was painfully aware of how her voice was on the verge of breaking into frightened sobs. All that had happened in the last 18 hours — if the light from the window was anything to go by, it was already past noon— was overwhelming.  In fact, the last two years had been overwhelming for the both of them. It was too much.

“My head…” Arya choked out, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Why does my head hurt?”

“No questions, just…” Sansa sniffled, angrily wiping away the tear that streaked her cheek, “stay here while I get some things, okay?”

Arya only grunted in response and Sansa started to pull herself up. Her whole body felt weak, spent, utterly exhausted. Even her mind was sluggish.

Wincing with each wobbly step, she made her way to the bathroom and returned to her sister’s side as quickly as she could with a wet rag, another blanket and her wand that she had snatched up from her bedside table.

She allowed herself to collapse onto her sister’s bed, being as careful as she could to not hurt her, but Arya whimpered nonetheless.

“I think I hit my head on a rock or something. It hurts like hell…” she mumbled and turned so that Sansa could press the wet rag onto her forehead. With a murmured spell, Sansa made sure that it would stay in place and she then began casting warming charms after pulling the extra blanket over them both.

Arya’s shivering slowly decreased and her cheeks started to regain its color so that she no longer looked like a ghost. But no amount of warming charms could remove the haunted look in her eyes— that was an effect dementors had on you.

“What happened?” She grumbled and Sansa sighed, wincing as her head started a new row of pounding.

“Too much… What is the last thing you remember?”

“Dinner, I guess… Myranda’s dead?” Arya whispered with a hoarse voice, narrowing her eyes in disbelief.

“Yeah… I guess she is…” Sansa whispered back, keeping up the act that the news of her death had been unexpected, and curled up under the covers to wrap her arms gently around her sister.

“Good. I’m glad.” Hearing those words coming out of Arya’s mouth startled Sansa and she raised her head from the pillow to look at her.

“Why would you say that?”

Arya looked back at her, anger written all over her features. “Because she deserved it! She hurt you and she would have done it again. I’m _glad_ she’s dead. How can you not feel the same?”

“You shouldn’t be happy about someone’s death Arya…” Sansa mumbled and dropped her gaze.

“But you have every right to be so _now_! Are you _not_ happy because you’re simply expected to mourn her?” Sansa had no answer to that. Was it true? Was she forcing herself to feel indifferent just because she wasn’t _supposed_ to feel happy to be rid of one of her tormentors? She didn’t know. But it didn’t matter now. It was done and she could move on — right? It was over.

“What else do you remember?” She changed the subject and softly started to pull the rag over Arya’s forehead and up to her hairline, smoothing her dirtied strands away from her face.

“Ramsay took you away… Did he hurt you? What happened?” Arya’s voice started to crack and Sansa tried her best to keep her calm with gentle touches and a controlled expression.

“He brought me to the kennels.”

Arya frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“To show… to show me something.. I, I don’t really know what to make of it but…”

Noticing the distress in Sansa’s voice, Arya fixed her with a stern gaze. “Tell me.”

“He has Theon.” Arya looked just as confused as before and so Sansa continued, her words falling from her mouth faster and faster, leveling on to panic.   
“Ramsay has Theon in a _cage._ There are no hounds left, just Theon, all dirty and… wild. He tried to bite me, Arya! Ramsay pressed me to the bars and Theon tried to _bite_ me! Who would do such a thing? And then Ramsay started yelling at him and… and … I don’t understand. He said ‘ _two days’_ and Theon just started screaming like he was under the Cruciatus curse or something! What’s happening in two days!? I need to know!”

She was stopped by the sudden weight on her torso and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was Arya hugging her. She let herself be held for a moment longer before wheezing out, “I’m fine… I’m calm.”

Arya pulled away, a wary expression on her face. “You sure? You were panicking.”

“Yeah.. I was just overwhelmed, that’s all.” It didn’t sound very convincing but Arya backed off a bit nevertheless.

“Theon… Why would Ramsay have him?”

“I don’t know and that’s exactly what frustrates me.”

“And what was that _‘two days’_ about?” Arya mostly seemed to be talking to herself but Sansa kept answering.

“I don’t know that either. Gods, I wish I could figure it out!” They were both silent for some time and Sansa’s eyes slowly became distant. “Maybe _that’s_ when they’re going to kill us… in two days…” she mumbled.

Arya snapped her attention to her sister and she shook her head, wincing visibly when it started to hurt.

“They won’t kill us.” She said, rubbing her temples with sore fingers. They were still tinged in a strange purplish color.

“How do you know?” Sansa whispered.

“Because you said so yourself! They won’t kill us because we’re useful to them still.”

“But what if I was wrong? What if they have decided that we’re not worth it?”

Arya grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her — a bit too violently as it made her whole body ache — and locked eyes. “We’re gonna be fine. We’ll make it. You’re just in shock or something and you need to calm down before you have a bloody heart attack.”

Sansa couldn’t help but snort lightly. “So you’re a medi-witch now?”

Arya grinned briefly before her expression turned somber again. “What happened next? I just remember that I went looking for you.”

“You found me in the courtyard with Ramsay and tried to take me back to our chamber but…” She hesitated, unsure if Arya’s memories would come back like a bludger to her head. _I have to tell her anyway…_ She thought sadly. She wished she would never have to remind her sister of what happened.

“Ramsay, somehow, could _control_ the dementors. They attacked us both.”

Arya shook her head, seemingly not having any sudden flash-backs, and Sansa sighed inwardly in relief. “I don’t remember any of that.” Arya said with a frown.

“You probably _did_ hit your head. I saw you fall to the ground before I fainted.”

Arya stared hard at the wall, looking as if in deep thought before stating, “You said that dementors took your happy memories but I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything important. Just the last few hours are gone.”

With a mournful look, Sansa took her sister’s hand. “They’re still _there_ but just… tainted. It feels like a dark veil has been placed over all the good. When you think of mother and father, don’t you feel an overwhelming sadness? I do at least.” Arya frowned and then her face relaxed as she nodded numbly in realization.

“It will never be the same...” Sansa whispered, she too going through her memories. After this attack, she felt drained. Would she even be able to cast a patronus now that the once-happy memory was all dull? She didn’t know.

A few silent tears fell down Arya’s cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

“Why do you know so much about dementors?” She eventually choked out between tears. It was clear that she tried to distract herself and not dwell on the lost happiness.

Sansa sighed and looked down, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Do you remember at the welcoming feast this year when Dumbledore talked about an… _incident.”_ Arya hummed in response. “It was a dementor that had stopped the train. The incident was… that I was attacked by it after Joffrey had locked me inside a compartment.”

“What?! Arya shrieked, her voice breaking mid-way. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You should have told me!”

“I didn’t _want_ you to know! I didn’t want you to worry about me any more than you already did… You won’t be able to protect me forever you know.”

“But…” Arya gasped. “How did you make it out? How did you escape it?”

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. _There’s no way I’m lying my way out of this one… I can’t keep living like this– telling lie after lie._ “I didn’t. Professor Baelish saved me. He cast a patronus and scared it away.”

“ _Him_ again? What does he want with you? He saves you from a bloody dementor one second and gives you a detention the next!” Arya threw her hands up in the air, scowling at the wall in anger. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

Sansa opened her mouth but no words came out. “Oh my god, you _do_ trust him! Sansa, I thought you were smarter than this!”

“I just–“ She stammered dumbly.

“Do you trust _everyone_ who saves you then? Or just him? Do you think he’s honorable just because he saved you from a dementor once?”

“No, Arya! I don’t trust everyone who saves me!” Sansa finally exclaimed, making Arya pause in her accusations. “Roose saved us _both_ from the dementors in the courtyard. Do I trust him? OF COURSE I DON’T! Believe it or not, I _know_ not everyone can be trusted! I probably know that more than you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arya ground out and frowned.

“Well, _you_ have your little group of friends that you seemingly trust more than most, but what do I have? Only recently did I start talking to Jeyne again and Margaery doesn’t even know half of what has happened to me. Those are the only friends I have and I don’t even trust them fully. Does it look like I go around trusting everyone I make eye contact with? Does it look like I’m careless with my loyalty?”

Arya looked down in her lap and twisted her hands together, looking rather sheepish. “I didn’t realize…”

“I gathered as much.” Sansa said, losing some of the bite in her voice.  “I’m sorry for yelling, I just need you to understand. We have to stick together and not question all of each other’s choices. We have so many enemies now.” She said softly and Arya nodded.

Hesitantly, Sansa embraced her sister and was relieved when she felt Arya hugging her back. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be too upset. She was just about to suggest that they both go clean themselves up when someone suddenly rapped on the door and it swung open with a bang.

Both girls flinched violently and Sansa pointed her wand directly at the chest of the intruder. With a hex forming on her lips, her wand suddenly flew across the room and the man in the doorway caught it effortlessly. Sansa’s eyes snapped up to his eyes and was met with the cold gaze of Roose Bolton scowling at her.

“You best be careful with that, girl. I do not take kindly to rude guests.” He said menacingly and dropped her wand to the floor, kicking it back into the room before clearing his throat. “I expect you both to be dressed and clean by dinner _and_ at your best behavior. We have an important visitor and if you as much as breathe too loudly I’ll have you locked in the kennels for the rest of your stay.”

Both girls flinched at his tone but Roose showed no satisfaction like Ramsay would have done. “Are we clear?”

They both nodded hesitantly and with two quick strides, Roose was gone, the door shutting with a loud bang behind him.

 _Important visitor?_ Sansa thought, turning to her sister who looked equally confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs palms together smugly* next chapter is wild guys.... wait for it


	41. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY a new chapter! It's time guys... shit will be going down... be ready

Sansa washed herself and carefully healed the small cuts and bruises that scattered her body from numerous falls the previous evening. She put on a woolen dress that had been provided from Walda and then helped Arya clean up as well.

When dinner time arrived, they both slowly made their way downstairs, weaving through the cold and bleak corridors. The hair on Sansa’s neck stood on end as a shiver coursed through her. Her weariness and suspicion was stronger than ever. Only now did it seem to fully hit her how vulnerable she and her sister were. They were in the very heart of their enemies’ lair, they could not escape without suffering grand consequences, and _something was going to happen._

Sansa was frustrated to the core over the fact that she did not know _what._ Petyr had not spoken to her about anything significant happening, part from the annual Lannister ball for New Year’s. But it was not time for that yet. Christmas had not even arrived yet, four days still remained, and New Year’s was even further away. She could not for the life of her figure out what could possibly be happening in two days. _One day,_ Sansa corrected herself. _Tomorrow._

They arrived by the double doors leading to the main hall, hands tightly clasped together, and a house elf dutifully opened the doors.

Sansa had expected to see the same stripped dreary room they had dined in the night before but was shocked to see the very opposite. The hall bathed in warm colors from the lit fireplace, a grand Christmas tree stood impeccably decorated in the corner, the table was filled with deliciously smelling food that rivaled even the Hogwarts Feasts and the pleasant sound of sweet holiday music buzzed in the background of light conversation from the group of people seated by the table.

Both she and her sister stood frozen in the doorway, barely registering the small hands of house elves pushing them into the room. Only when the door closed behind them with a click did they snap out of their daze.

In any normal situation, Sansa would have been weeping with joy. The hall looked so much like the memory from her childhood —the warmth, the familiarity. But the Boltons owned Winterfell now and Sansa had a feeling that this pleasantness wouldn’t last long.

“Ah, how lovely of you to join us finally.” Roose’s voice sounded from the table as he stood up and pulled out a chair for Sansa to take a seat. She moved carefully, forcing her good manners in place, and sat down. Roose moved to pull out a chair for Arya as well but she yanked out one by herself, glared at him, and sat down promptly beside Sansa. Roose’s expression showed no anger, only cold indifference, but Sansa knew it must have angered him.

“Bad manners that one.” A voce mumbled from across the table and Sansa lifted her gaze from her plat to see Cornelius Fudge scrutinizing her sister with distaste, two unknown Aurors sitting on either side of him. When his eyes moved to Sansa she quickly averted her gaze and nodded respectfully.

“Minister.” She greeted and clasped Arya’s hand underneath the tablecloth tightly. She still remembered how very uncaring Fudge had been after she was attacked by dementors, both on the train and when playing quidditch.

Sansa held no hope that Fudge would save her or Arya from this place. He, like so many others, only cared from himself. No matter how much Sansa wanted to scream how much she despised the corrupted Minister, she held her tongue. Roose, for some reason, wanted to impress him. It was best to be agreeable.

“At least that one knows some etiquette.” Fudge said, apparently not caring enough to greet Sansa back. She bit lip to keep herself from saying something she would regret.

“Indeed.  During their short stay here I’ve done my best to teach them how to behave amongst superiors but it seems to require more time. Surely you remember the Stark-stubbornness from the Ministry of old?” Roose said and sipped his wine, gesturing for the sisters to start eating as they had yet to do so. They merely picked at their food.

“Yes, yes. I’m surprised that Eddard himself hasn’t taught them anything, however.” Fudge stated as he cut a piece of chicken and put in his mouth.

“He was always prone to negligence but he hid it well, I must admit.” Roose commented. Sansa felt anger bubbling up inside her. _How dare he speak so of my father? Negligence?_

“Perhaps you’ve seen the state of the manor?” Roose added with a quirk of his brow and Fudge nodded. “The house elves have done a good job in restoring this hall as well as some of the gardens but there is still much to be done. I cannot entirely comprehend why Eddard let his home become so deteriorated.”

“Perhaps the Dark Arts he was meddling into finally got to his mind. If I recall correctly, he was never a stable man. He was too quick-tempered.” Fudge implored with a sniff.

“Quite right.” Roose agreed.

“MY FATHER NEVER—“ Arya screamed, standing abruptly from her chair, but was cut off when the blue flash of a spell hit her right in the back. Sansa gasped and started reaching for her sister but was held in place by Roose’s heavy hand on her shoulder. Arya’s rigid form, seething anger, relaxed and her expression became clouded, confused.

“You’re late, son.” Roose said as Ramsay stepped into the room with a wicked grin on his face, tucking his wand into his sleeve.

“Yes, please forgive me father.  It seems the elves couldn’t quite handle my _pet_ in the kennels. He’s wild that one.” Ramsay chuckled and settled his gaze on Sansa for a split second, something vicious glimmering in his eyes, before looking over her shoulder at Fudge. “Minister.” He greeted with a nod before he moved to Arya and placed his hands on her shoulders. Sansa could see him digging his fingertips into her.

Ramsay leaned forward to whisper in Arya’s ear, “How about you go sit down again, hmm?”

Arya nodded, furrowed her brows, and calmly took her place with no resistance whatsoever. Sansa could do nothing but stare, fear building inside her. She didn’t like how Arya was acting.

“That better not be an _Unforgivable_ , boy!” Fudge suddenly sputtered and glared at Ramsay. “The Imperious is punishable by Azkaban I should have you know!”

“It is merely a strong _confundus_ charm, minister. Nothing to worry about.” Ramsay divulged calmly and took the seat beside his father. The Aurors, who both had their wands drawn and pointed at Ramsay, relaxed when Fudge waved a hand in the air, indicating that they could let down their guard.

“Good, good. I wouldn’t want any more foul play from Ministry officials’ families. The Starks were quite enough.” He huffed and eyed Sansa quickly.

“Let us return to the dinner, shall we?” Roose suggested and so they did.

-

Sansa ate in silence, letting the conversation flow freely without her interfering. Not that she was ever invited to speak either. Roose probably wanted her to be quiet and show as much obedience as possible.

Despite her act of indifference, her mind was as sharp as ever, gathering all bits of information she could. But, to her disappointment, she did not hear anything that might relate to whatever would happen the next day. All they spoke about was ministry matters — how to change the budget, how many aurors were in training, when the council would gather again…

It was nothing Petyr wouldn’t already know about so it wouldn’t even make a difference if she somehow managed to pass this information along to him.

“Sansa?” Roose suddenly spoke, twisting his head to look at her. She met his gaze meekly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Your sister is more agitated by the second.” He gestured to Arya and Sansa saw how white her knuckles were clutching the utensils. “Remove her from the table. You may both retire for the night.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She bowed her head respectfully, mustering all good manners she had, and rose from the chair. “Have a good evening, Minister.”

She took Arya by the arm, bowed her head once again, and left as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

The _confundus_ charm Arya had been hit with wore off completely within only a minute after they had reached their chambers and by that point, Arya had broken down with angry tears streaming down her face.

“I hate them.”

“As do I.” Sansa answered and hugged her sister close as they lay huddled together underneath the covers. She took a deep breath. “Something is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Do you know what?” Arya asked hesitantly and Sansa shook her head.

“No. But I want you to promise me to be careful, okay?”

“I promise. What about you? Will you be careful?” Arya whispered and gazed up at Sansa with fearful eyes.

“I will. But… if something happens to me-“ Sansa started but Arya quickly cut her off.

“Nothing is going to happen to you!”

“You don’t know that…”

“No but-“

“Please, Arya, listen. _If_ something happens to me, I want you to run, okay?” Sansa said somberly and Arya shook her head in refusal.

“No, I won’t leave you.”

“You might have to.”

“Stop it. Don’t say that.”

“Promise me you’ll run. Please.” Sansa begged.

“Where would I even go? Without you I don’t know what to do.”

“Go to your friends. What was their names? Gendry, and something about a pie? And L.. Lolly?”

“Lommy. Gendry, Hot Pie and Lommy.” Arya corrected with a sad smile.

“Go to them.”

“I don’t want to drag them into this…” Arya sighed as a tear fell down her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said with a small tearful chuckle, “they’re all idiots and I want to hex their bollocks off daily but… they’re my friends. I don’t want them to get hurt because of me.”

Sansa huffed out half a laugh and wiped Arya’s wet cheeks with her thumbs.  After a moment of hesitation, she said, “Then go find professor Baelish.”

Arya frowned. “Why him?”

“I trust him to keep you safe. If something happens to me, he’ll help you.”

“I don’t like it.” Arya growled and snuggled closer to her sister. “But if you trust him, I suppose he did something right. Lord knows, getting a Slytherin’s loyalty is more difficult than figuring out how to drive one of those muggle cars. I’ll go to him, but only as a last resort.”

Sansa released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you.”

She smiled sadly as her lids became heavy with exhaustion. If something happened, at least her sister would be safe. At least Arya could go on. She buried her face into Arya’s short hair and promptly fell asleep.

-

The door was blasted to bits and Sansa, who was startled awake, hid her body under the covers to shield herself from the splinters. Her heart leapt up in her throat and she cradled Arya to her, trying to recover from the sudden shock.

“Get them out of here!” A gruff voice shouted and suddenly there were hands pulling her out of bed, yanking her by the arms through the wide-open doorway. Panic coursed through her. She didn’t even realize she was screaming until a calloused hand was slapped over her mouth.

“Shut it!” Another man said and pulled her down the corridor.

“Sansa!” She suddenly heard Arya shout and there was a blast of light before the man who was pulling her away slumped to the floor, unconscious. Smaller, gentler hands grabbed hold of her arm and she was pulled back towards their room by Arya.

“What’s happening?” She gasped as Arya shoved her wand into her hand.

“I don’t know but we’re not staying to find out, ya hear me?” Arya snapped and set off in a run, hauling Sansa along with her. They jumped over the four unconscious bodies by their doorway and Sansa gasped in shock.

“How did you-?”

“I’m not a Gryffindor for nothing, sis. I can take a fight.” She smirked and continued down the corridor hurriedly. A low rumble was shaking the walls, dulling all other sounds as they ran. Tendrils of smoke was whisking around them, making it harder to see. Sansa pulled her sister to a halt, coughing violently.

“Something’s on fire, we can’t go this way!” She rasped but Arya insisted on pulling her towards the source of the smoke.

“Those men tried to lead us the other way! Someone could be waiting for us there, this is the only option! This is our chance to escape!” Arya yelled, trying to make herself heard as the rumbling sound increased in volume.

Sansa nodded reluctantly. Her Slytherin sense of self-preservation was screaming at her no to run towards what would surely be a raging fire, but the fear to be in the clutches of those men again was worse.

They rounded a corner and were instantly blinded by the wild flames that suddenly burst out from the main hall. Heat blasted in their faces, nearly scorching their skin as they dashed toward the large doors that lead to the courtyard.

They stumbled out, fleeing hand in hand from the heated flares that erupted behind them. Flames were searing through the corridor they had just run through, unrelenting. But the outside was no better. Fire surrounded them, raging, destroying all it touched and leaving only desolation behind.

A shout drew their attention as they desperately scrambled away from the flames licking the high walls around them. Sansa squinted through the bright inferno and spotted a lone figure hobbling towards the gates that lead to the woods. The man turned around and cast a spell, forcing the flames that were licking his heels to retreat.

Sansa tightly gripped her sister’s hand and they hurried towards him, not caring about the searing pain that grazed their skin as they ran. Whatever spell that man was using, it was working.

A quake shook the ground violently, almost making them collapse to the ground as they finally reached the gates. With aching hands, Sansa pried it open and pushed Arya through before escaping herself.

She turned around and saw the man no more than twenty meters away, still ferociously casting spells to keep the fire at bay. He slashed his wand and the flames jerked back, retreating as if fearing the man.

“Come on!” Sansa shrieked as she saw the opportunity for him to escape and he scrambled back, limping on an injured foot, and Sansa suddenly recognized who it was.

The Minister was sobbing as he fought towards freedom. His face crumpled in agony with every step. For a fleeting second, Sansa had the terrible thought that she should close the gate and leave him there to burn, but her rational mind shoved that idea away and she pushed the gate open further.

The fire roared behind him as he stumbled forward, only a short distance away from the gate, and suddenly it surged toward him, forming the head of a giant hound, the flames coming alive unlike anything Sansa had ever seen. But she knew what it was. Only a fool would mistake it for anything else.

_Fiendfyre. Someone was mad enough to cast fiendfyre._

The destruction of the curse was well known and no one in history had ever managed to control it once it’s been cast. Fire was dangerous on its own but combined with magic, it was a wild relentless beast, taking the form of whichever animal the caster favored. Not that it made the caster safe from its deadliness. Once fiendfyre was cast, it was an independent force of nature. Untamable. Indestructible until it burned itself out.

Arya started tugging on Sansa’s arm and she stumbled back, turned on her heel, and ran into the woods with her sister. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the flaming hound baring its teeth as it raged toward Fudge. The hound opened its massive jaws and leapt toward the Minister, preparing to snap them together and let the inferno envelop him, but Fudge leapt as well. He threw himself through the open gate and disappeared, just in time, with the resonating ‘ _crack’_ of apparition.

The fiery beast went right through the gate, melting the iron bars with its heat, and crashed to the ground. It growled and let out a quaking bellow of anger as it realized its prey had vanished. The hound turned its rage toward the walls of the courtyard, tearing them down and melting all it could.

Sansa just kept running with Arya by her side deeper into the woods. Fear and adrenaline fueled them both, making them forget about the injuries they had both sustained, and they would have kept running had it not been for the body that slammed into them.

Sansa cried out in pain as she landed on the hard forest floor.

The sound of a heaving sob turned her attention to the person she and Arya had ran into and she once again saw the agonized face of Minister Fudge. He was laying sprawled beside her, weeping in pain as he clutched his arm tightly against him —or what was left of it.

Blood was oozing out of the stump by his elbow and Sansa stared at it, wide-eyed.

“He’s splinched himself.” Arya rasped and dry heaved as more blood came gushing out, seeping into the moss underneath him. It looked pitch black in the darkness of the night but the smell of iron was unmistakable.

“Oh god…” Was all that Sansa managed to say. Apparition wasn’t typically dangerous if you did it right but if you attempted to do it when stressed, drunk, sleepy or in otherwise not in your right mind, you risked leaving a part of your body at your previous destination. Fudge’s lower arm was now nothing more than ash as it had been left by the gates.

Sansa felt bile rising up her throat. Fudge’s body trembled as he sat up, still sobbing. He took a few deep breaths and then looked up, straight at Sansa.

“Don’t just s…stand there, girl. Help your Minister.” He snapped, his voice only wavering a little and Sansa was startled into action by mere habit. She took hold of his uninjured arm and hauled him up, uncomfortably aware of the blood he had smeared on her.

He whimpered and tried to stand on his own but he faltered and had to lean on Sansa to keep himself upright.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” A coarse voice suddenly said and all heads snapped toward the sound. A scraggly form shuffled closer to them, stumbling on the moss as he approached. Sansa flinched and tried to step back but she only managed half a step before Fudge’s weight on her side threatened to make her fall.

“Theon.” She whispered and kept her eyes trained on him, the memory of the kennels still fresh in her mind. She wanted nothing to do with him.

“What do you mean?” Arya demanded and stepped forward, wand pointed at him warningly.

“You should leave…” He said and he hunched forward, a gurgling sound coming from his throat.

Sansa tried to steer both herself and Fudge away but Theon’s voice stopped her.

“NO!” he exclaimed. “Not him.”

Sansa frowned. She had tried to appease him, do as he asked. “What do you mean ‘ _not him’_?”

“Just y-“ His voice broke and he hunched forward further, his arms wrapped around his torso protectively. Moonlight shone through the trees, revealing just how damaged he was. He had scratches all over himself and the madness in his eyes seemed even worse than the last time Sansa had seen him.

His breathing suddenly turned heavy and he made a low whining sound in the back of his throat. His body started shaking and convulsing, his head jerking to the side. He opened his mouth and Sansa could see blood oozing from his gums as his teeth grew sharp. The bones in his spine cracked and protruded. He whined in pain and what remained of his torn clothing was shredding to pieces as his body changed form.

Large claws sprouted from the tips of his fingers, foam dribbled from his mouth and his teeth clacked as his face reformed as a large muzzle. His eyes enlarged, his ears turned triangular and he growled — the sound so distinctively not human that it sent shivers down Sansa’s spine.

Suddenly, it was not Theon standing before her any longer. The creature in his stead was still, breathing slowing as it seemed to relax. It whined softly.

Fudge made a strangled sound of fear and the creature’s head snapped up, sniffing the air before leaning back and howling loudly to the moon and there was no mistaking what it was. _Werewolf._

Fudge screamed in terror and scrambled back, pushing Sansa in front of him in his rush to escape. Sansa stumbled, panic making her heart race as the werewolf’s eyes settled straight on her. She screamed as well and tried to turn away and run but Fudge pushed her forward again, wrapped his uninjured arm around her neck and held her as a shield in front of him.

“GET OFF HER!” Arya shouted and kicked his side. He fell to the side and tried to hold onto Sansa’s arm to steady himself but she went down with him, smacking down hard onto the ground. Arya hurried forward, yanking her sister away from the Minister as the werewolf gained interest in them. It snarled and flicked its tongue over its large fangs.

“NO, DON’T-” Fudge shouted as Arya pulled her sister free completely and then shut him up with a hard kick to the jaw.

The sisters staggered back before breaking into a run, fleeing once again hand in hand. Fudge shrieked again as the werewolf leapt forward and dug its sharp claws into the skin of his stomach. His cries were made of nothing but agony and only when the werewolf closed its jaws around his head and bit down with a sickening crunch did he stop his screaming.

Sansa ran, dragged forward by Arya and a fierce determination to live. She was not planning on stopping until she was out of these woods but, once again, things took a different turn.

The sizzling pale yellow spell hit her from the side, throwing her and Arya to the ground as ropes bound them together swiftly and tightly. Sansa let out a sob and closed her eyes. This was it. The last of the Starks would finally meet their end. _Eaten by a werewolf… fate is certainly cruel._

Rough hands suddenly hauled them up to their feet and Sansa felt the tug of apparition take hold right below her belly button. When her feet found fast ground again she opened her eyes and was immediately blinded by the bright lights in the room.

“It’s done.” She heard Roose’s voice from behind her before a loud, startling _‘crack’_ signaled his leave. Sansa squinted and tried to figure out where she was but her body didn’t want to cooperate. It was very difficult to even keep her eyes open.

“They look dreadful. Put them in healing sleep.” Cersei’s voice reached her ears and that was the last thing she heard before everything turned black.

 

* * *

**Scene inspiration:**

*I do not own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles* didn't see that coming, hmm?
> 
> Please comment and tell me your thoughts on this madness!


	42. Papers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter, I know, but it's just a little tease! A longer one will be posted this Friday or Saturday! 
> 
> Now, please enjoy a little Petyr POV ;)  
> <3

**_Petyr_ **

** Winterfell Manor in ruins!  
Minister of Magic dead! **

_Around 2 am on Wednesday night, a fire broke out in Winterfell Manor —the former ancestral seat of House Stark. According to reports, the fire was caused by an old chandelier which had come too close to a nearby curtain. The flames fed upon the residual Dark Magic left inside the manor from the Starks’ use of forbidden magic and it quickly became untamable._

_“No spells were effective. Not even the house elves could put the fire out.” Roose Bolton, Head of the Investigatory Department in the Ministry and current owner of Winterfell, states._

_The house elves had not yet started the renovation of the wing where the fire broke out, which explains the unfortunate accident. Not only that, but Mr. Bolton had also given many of the elves a day off in order to rest before the holidays._

_“There was simply no one there to prevent this tragedy.”_ He says.

_The fire was ferocious and burned everything in its way, including stone, and the embers have not yet been extinguished despite the Ministry’s relentless work._

_As if this was not enough, the sisters Sansa and Arya Stark —wards of House Lannister and only remaining members of House Stark— was in the manor when the accident occurred. Aurors had been sent in to evacuate them but, for unknown reasons, something went wrong and the girls were forced to exit the flaming building on their own. They both suffered second degree burns on their legs and arms. Thankfully, they were reached in time and placed in healing sleep in the safety of Lannister Manor —also known as the Red Keep. They will both fully recover._

_Someone who was not so lucky was our very own Minister Cornelius Fudge who was visiting the manor on this very unfortunate day. According to our sources, he fought his way through the fire and made it to the Wolfswood outside the grounds. He later crossed ways with the injured Stark girls and was preparing to get them help when he recognized the howl of a savage werewolf nearby. In a last heroic act, he attracted the werewolf’s attention in order to save the girls and, to our great despair, he was attacked and died from his injuries. The werewolf has not yet been identified, however, Roose Bolton has personally started an investigation in order to capture and imprison this abomination._

_The remains have been gathered by aurors and a funeral befitting our admired Minister will be held the 27 th of December. Tywin Lannister is currently filling in the position as Minister until a new election can be held, although, we have no doubt he will be elected when the time finally comes. As right-hand-man of Minister Fudge, he is the most eligible to keep our society stable in these troubled times._

_For more information about Winterfell Manor and the Stark Treachery, turn to page 5.  
For more information about the restriction laws of half-breeds and lycanthropes, turn to page 8._

**_Ros Skeeter, professional journalist and writer  
The Daily Prophet_ **

Petyr threw the paper down and took another gulp of the half-empty whisky bottle he held tightly in his hand. The drink burned down his throat, settling with a warm feeling in his belly. A pounding headache was starting to form by his temples. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking more than he already had, but he didn't care.

He had been promised _—promised —_ that Sansa and her sister would be safe. Roose himself had assured him that they would both unscathed and yet, here he was, drinking himself into oblivion because they were most definitely _not_ unscathed.

_I should have told her. I should have told her. Fuck why didn’t I tell her? She would have known what to do if I had only TOLD HER._

This was not how he had planned to spend Christmas day _—_ alone in his chamber at Hogwarts, half-drunk and miserable.

_I was fucking PROMISED._

He had to speak with Cersei as soon as she was available. She hadn’t been for the last 3 days but an open spot on her schedule had to pop up _someday._ Then again, there was always the Lannister New Year’s celebration… maybe he could speak with her then and tell her what an absolute _fucktwit_ Roose was for allowing Sansa to get hurt.  

He could see it in front of him, how he strides up to the Lannister lioness, an ever-present smirk on his face to conceal his contempt. _“I’m afraid that recent events regarding the sisters may have complicated things for you.”_ He would whisper smoothly. “ _Perhaps is did not occur to our dear Roose that the eldest girl had been reassured by myself that she would be safe. Now that my words has proven to be lies to her, I doubt she will ever trust me fully again. Tell me, how does he plan to fix this little mishap?”_

Then, he would walk away, leaving her to seethe with anger. It was so easy to rile her up, far easier than Tywin, and the destruction would be deliciously more devastating.

_Roose will be slaughtered._ He thought and swallowed another mouthful of whisky. It wasn’t firewhisky. It wasn’t any special brand at all, in fact, it was very cheap but it did its job _—_ burned his throat and went straight to his head. It was just what he needed. Some pain.

_Is this how Sansa felt? Is this same kind of burning sensation?_ He asked himself ruefully before throwing the empty bottle against the wall to shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your thoughts, I love to hear them<3


	43. Celebrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! SORRY I didn't post on neither Friday nor Saturday but AO3 was simply NOT agreeing with me. Anyways, I'm posting now so enjoy!!!

 

She swallowed hard and looked at the feast placed in front of her, feeling sick by the mere sight. After she had woken up from the healing sleep two days prior, she hadn’t had much of an appetite. The memories of Fudge’s splinched arm and his terrified screams as he was attacked by the werewolf were too vivid in her mind.

She had been given clear instructions for tonight — _look pleased —_ but Sansa found it very difficult to do so. She felt so out of place, sitting between Cersei and Tyrion by the Head Table in the ballroom, looking out at the already half-drunken crowd. Arya wasn’t even with her. Cersei had explained that her sister was too much of a _troublemaker_ to attend the high-class New Year’s celebration.

 It shamed Sansa that she could not argue against that particular statement. Arya had no tolerance for faked niceties and people pretending everything was all right when it was clearly not.

She released a shuddering breath and surveyed the room carefully. Golden cutlery was placed on all the tables, crimson draperies hung from the walls, the ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky and the marble floor was polished to perfection. It was every inch the perfect Lannister event.

Many esteemed guests were mingling in the crowd.  Across the room the bright lime green robes of Headmaster Dumbledore could be seen, his strange sense of style more apparent than ever; Professor Snape stood leaning against the wall, clad in black as usual and looking at the décor with distaste; Roose Bolton had questions hurled at him from a reporter, his usual stony façade slowly morphing into a face of irritation.

Sansa felt herself frown as she looked at him and she instantly looked away, forcing a smile of contentment. It probably didn’t look very convincing. Every time she lay eyes on Roose, she felt a surge of anger pierce through her and it was nearly impossible to hide. It was clear to her that the fire at Winterfell had been planned, and Roose undeniably had something to do with it. His voice when he dumped her and Arya with the Lannisters still echoed in her head — _“It is done.”_

Her home was in ruins. Nothing was left and it was all _their_ fault.

Not only that, but Sansa had a feeling that Minister Fudge’s death was no accident either. Why else keep a werewolf in a cage if not to use him as a weapon? Ramsay’s warning to Theon about _“two days”_ was now so much clearer. It had all been set up. A perfect plan.

If Fudge didn’t die in the fire, send the werewolf after him. It didn’t get much simpler than that. _How Slytherin of them_ , Sansa thought bitterly.

She wondered if Petyr had known about it. _He would have told me, right?_ As her thoughts delved deeper and deeper into the possibilities, she became increasingly unsure. How many in the Ministry’s small council had known? In all the interviews, they told the same story. It made sense that they had all planned it. _But why hadn’t Petyr said anything?_ Sansa didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t even seen him at the celebration yet.

“You need to eat.” Tyrion suddenly whispered to her and nudged her side with his crimson-clad elbow. Sansa glanced at him quickly before steeling her gaze forward.

“I’m not hungry,” she said. In truth, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten properly in days but she knew it would all come up again if she ate now. She preferred to be sick in the privacy of her room instead of at a feast with hundreds of guests watching her.

“You’ll waste away if you continue like this.” He said pointedly but she ignored him. He had no right to tell her what to do. He was as much a prisoner in this house as she was.

She sighed softly and turned to Cersei, looking down in her lap.

“May I go to the ladies’ room?” she asked meekly and swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to get away from the noise of the large ballroom. Perhaps if she could be alone with her thoughts, she could finally make some sense out of it all.

From under her lashes she saw Cersei’s lip curl into half a sneer before she answered. “Not now, little dove. The announcements will be made soon.”

Sansa did not know what kind of announcements but she guessed it would be some overdone speech about ‘how much Minister Fudge was going to be missed the coming year but that they should all make the best of it’. She nearly snorted out loud. That would surely be awful to sit through. _Dumbledore’s welcome speeches each year at Hogwarts is quite enough second-hand embarrassment for me, thank you very much._

She tentatively sipped the elf-made wine from her gaudy golden cup. That was all she had been able to stomach so far.

Something tickled her ankle and she fought the urge to bend down and scratch herself. Cersei thought such things were _unbecoming_ of a lady. _Well, so is sexual relations with your brother…_ She coughed and held her napkin over her mouth to cover up her gagging at that thought. She was still mortified by the fact that Petyr had asked her to actually _witness_ them… coupling… so he could undermine them later by using her memories. _Just one more thing on my growing list of worries._

The tickling continued, no matter how much Sansa ignored it, and it suddenly started to travel up her shin with slow crawling movements. Her eyes widened and she tried to subtly shake her leg to get rid of it. Her mind filled with all sorts of thoughts — _beetle, cockroach, spider._

_Oh god, spider… What if it’s venomous?_ A voice said worriedly in her head.

_Don’t be stupid! It’s nothing!_  Another shot back. _Besides, if it **is** venomous, you have the best Potions Master in all of England in the very same room, AND he’s your Head of House! There’s nothing to worry about. Why is it a big deal? You’re so silly. Focus on the important things._

But Sansa couldn’t focus, instead, she whimpered when the crawling thing reached her knee and Tyrion shot her a concerned glance at the sound.

“Miss Stark?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes… I’m fine,” she managed to say, her voice surprisingly level. Tyrion scrutinized her a second longer before shrugging and gulping down another mouthful of wine.

_Dear gods,_ Sansa thought, _it is under my SKIRT. How am I supposed to get this thing off me?_ She didn’t want to crush it against her, and then she’d be left with bug-intestine smeared against her skin all evening.

It reached her waist, right where her bodice was wound tightly around her, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. _At least it can’t crawl any further up,_ she thought with a strange sense of relief just as the crawling thing suddenly spread out, flattened, and slipped underneath her corset.

She sucked in a sharp breath and Tyrion once again looked at her strangely, but this time chose not to ask.  How anything could even fit between her skin and the snug fabric around her torso, Sansa did not know. She was sure now, however, that it most certainly wasn’t a bug. What bug could just make itself flat like that?

It traveled over her ribcage and followed her arm, drifting down to the palm she held open underneath the tablecloth. Dazed with confusion, she felt the thing exit through her sleeve and landed gently in her hand. She curled her fingers around it hesitantly, her eyes lighting up with understanding. _Parchment. It’s a piece of parchment. It’s a note._

She quickly closed her half-gaping mouth before anyone could see the indecency of her shocked face and slowly brought the note to her lap, letting her gaze settle downwards. Her heart hammered in her chest. _It’s Petyr. It must be. Only he could do this, right?_

She wasn’t sure if her nervousness was from excitement or fear as she subtly smoothed out the little note, narrowing her eyes to see the neat handwriting. She frowned at the message.

“ _Pretend to distrust me.”_

She had no time to ponder it any further as a voice jerked her back to reality.

“Miss Lannister.” Petyr said huskily in his usual sly tone and bowed his head from where he stood in front of the table. His gaze then drifted to Sansa and he tilted his head yet again. “Miss Stark.”

“Professor Baelish.” Cersei answered and glanced at Sansa meaningfully but she only stared at Petyr. It felt like far too long since she had seen him — like it had been months, not two weeks. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he looked different… wore… weary?  

Cersei cleared her throat and Sansa was startled into action. She looked down in her lap, letting her face keep the slight frown she had from reading the note that was now crumpled in her fist, and she mumbled, “Professor.”

Of course, she couldn’t be completely sure Petyr had actually sent the note. It could be anyone —she had not recognized the handwriting after all — but under the circumstances Petyr seemed to be the only possible sender. Sansa didn’t understand _why_ she was supposed to pretend to distrust him but if it would help his plan, she would do all she could. He could help her.

“I wish to speak with you, dear Cersei,” Petyr then said. “Alone, if you please.”

Cersei made a sound of annoyance but she stood nevertheless, placing a warning hand on Sansa’s shoulder that indicated clearly that she was to stay put, and gestured for Petyr to follow her to one of the back rooms to speak in private.

When she returned not even a minute later, her lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyes glaring daggers around the room, a look that even rivaled Snape’s furious gaze. Sansa knew better than to ask what was wrong. Cersei would not respond kindly to such a question.

But Sansa’s curiosity kept her from completely avoiding exploring where Cersei’s anger was directed and she followed her burning gaze to the other side of the ballroom. There, speaking with a group of lower ministry officials, was Roose. Sansa felt a spark of malice as she realized that he indeed was the recipient of the lioness’ fury.

However, confusion was still clouding her mind. What had Petyr said to make Cersei so angry with Roose when she, just mere minutes ago, had been more than pleased with his actions? It made no sense in Sansa’s mind.

Searching through the crowd with inquisitive eyes, she finally saw him. Petyr’s face was rid of all emotion, almost impossible to read, but Sansa was drawn to the smug glint in the corner of his eyes. Whatever plan he had made, it had worked. She bit her lip to keep from smiling as he tilted his head a fraction, nodding in reassurance.

Tywin suddenly cleared his throat loudly as he stood up from his seat beside Cersei, pointing his wand to his throat to enhance his voice. The chattering of conversation around the hall slowly died down as all attention was turned to the Lannister patriarch.

“It gladdens me greatly to see so many of you esteemed members and supporters of the Ministry here this evening to celebrate the oncoming year. We hope that it will bring us good fortune, now more than ever. The grievous event of Minister Fudge’s passing a mere few days ago has downed our spirits and I was advised to cancel this yearly celebration, however, I recognized the need the wizarding population would have to forget out troubles, if only for one night, and I simply could not take that away.”

Several people started clapping, some even with tears in their eyes despite it no being a very moving speech in Tywin’s stoic voice. Sansa glanced at Cersei and saw how her features had softened, looking less severe than before. In fact, she looked almost genuinely pleased. It made Sansa disconcerted.

Tywin raised a hand and the crowd quieted down once again.

“Apart from a new year to look forward to, I have another announcement to make.” The crowd exclaimed _oooh’s_ and _aaah’s_ at his mysterious statement while Sansa watched curiously as Cersei’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Cersei suddenly snapped her eyes to meet Sansa’s, smirked again, and leaned in towards her elegantly. Sansa could only sit frozen, embarrassed to have been caught in her scrutiny as well as frightened by the lioness’ sudden change in demeanor.  Cersei’s lips brushed her ear as she whispered, “I said it before and I’ll say it again — _look pleased._ You know the consequences of not doing so. Believe me, I can make it much worse for you.”

Sansa’s blood ran cold and she stared straight ahead as Cersei retreated and Tywin finally spoke again. “My eldest son, Tyrion, is to be married… to none other than Miss Sansa _Stark_.”

The crowd broke out in a thunderous applause but Sansa could only hear the wild thumping of her heart. Automatically, she looked over to where Petyr stood and saw the blank shock on his face.

_Not according to plan then,_ Sansa thought ruefully before promptly fainting.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petyr tried guys... he tried to fix things but... 
> 
> *runs and hides*
> 
> also, sorry I keep ending chapters with Sansa fainting lmfao, it's just so convenient!   
> Please let me know your thoughts<3


	44. Offers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii!  
> I must apologize for the delay, I have had the WORST writers block recently and I will explain why in the end-notes. Anyway, here is a new chapter, quite short but hopefully a little satisfying too. Enjoy<3
> 
> Oh, and btw, NEWT(s) stand for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test (yes, this is canon lmao) and it's basically the exams in the wizarding world ;)

**_Petyr_ **

He watched, helpless, as Sansa’s eyes rolled back into her head as she fainted. There were gasps and screams from the crowd, people rushing forward to help her off the floor. Someone must have cast enervate on her, making her wake up within seconds after falling.

Aurors were stopping the reporters that tried to push forward and get an interview. It was utter chaos, and not the sort Petyr enjoyed watching unfold.

His eyes were entirely focused on Sansa. She dazedly watched the crowd, perhaps searching for his face, before being led out through a back door.  Tyrion and Cersei followed, the latter looking furious as she hurried out.

The crowd suddenly quieted down and Petyr dragged his gaze from the door that just slammed shut to the head table where Tywin and Jaime remained standing. Tywin cleared his throat.  

“It appears as though the bride-to-be did not anticipate such a reaction, she has always  been a modest girl,” he calmly said. Some people laughed nervously in the back, perhaps unsure of how to respond. “There is no need to worry about her state of health, however. She is being cared for by the best healers in Great Britain as we speak. My son Jaime will now be holding a press conference in the west wing, relocate there if you wish. I must take my leave.”

With that, he swiftly turned and made for the same exit Sansa had left through, leaving the crowd in cheers. Reporters hurried to the main doors, eager to be the first in place in the west wing. Petyr, however, followed the Lannister patriarch with determined steps.

He had almost reached the door when a black of mass fabric strode past him, dragonhide boots clicking on the marble floor rhythmically. Snape’s robes billowed as he quickly stepped in through the door before slamming it shut with a wave of his hand. Petyr was left outside, dumbstruck for a second.

He quickly snapped out of his daze and reached for the handle, receiving a small electric shock for his efforts. The wards Snape had set were powerful, especially considering the short time frame. Gritting his teeth in irritation, Petyr leaned against the wall, murmuring his own spell to listen in on the conversation inside.

“And when, may I ask, is the wedding day?” Snape asked in his usual bored tone, making it appear as though he could not wait to leave even though he had been the one to seek out a conversation.

“April 5th,” Tywin responded in an equally uninterested manner, although with a certain hint of irritation.

“During the holidays? Ought you not to wait?” Snape inquired.

“Tyrion did not wish to wait until summer. He is love, after all,” Tywin stated simply, the lie of Tyrion’s love apparent but not addressed. “Did you only wish to ask questions, if so I suggest you head to the west wing, professor.”

Petyr almost snorted.

“Not at all. I have an offer to make,” Snape replied and Petyr frowned deeply. What could he possibly offer? And to what end? He knew for a fact that a Slytherin did not simply give things for free. Something was always expected in return.

“And what might that be?” Tywin asked, sounding both curious and suspicious.

“Headmaster Dumbledore is an old fashioned man. He, like many others in the school board, oppose to the idea of a married woman attending Hogwarts. As it is, Miss Stark would not be allowed the proper education after the Easter holidays, seeing as she would be wed by then. She would therefore not take her NEWTs, which would damage her reputation, rendering it worse than it already is in some circles.”

There was silence for a time. Petyr’s mind was working furiously, going over each of Snape’s possible motives. Finally, Tywin asked, “Your offer?”

“Let me take the girl back to the school tonight. I can tutor her in all necessary subjects for the remainder of the Christmas holidays and during the months leading up to her wedding day. With the help of my expertise she would have no problem taking her NEWTs early — making her appear as an exemplary student and child prodigy. She would outshine her peers with almost no effort at all, finishing school a whole year ahead of them.”

“And the price?” Tywin asked.

“A position in the Ministry.”

Petyr’s heart was thumping loudly in his chest. He did not know what to make of this. He did not know what to do in order to stop it. And he _had_ to stop it.

“What position do you desire?”

“Any in the small council would suffice. Although I must say, I have always been particularly talented when it comes to managing _economy.”_

 _No,_ Petyr thought. _Not this. He can’t take all this from me._ He held his breath unconsciously, waiting for Tywin’s answer.

“I believe… we could come to an agreement, professor. Follow me.”

Petyr remained outside, staring at nothing, wondering when all his plans had started to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so about my writers block..  
> I'm a perfectionist and when I'm not happy with something/don't feel like it's good enough, I can think of nothing else. Recently I've only been able to think about the plot holes and unnecessary scenes in this story and no matter how hard I've tried to get over it, I can't. 
> 
> So, in order to move past this, I will be going on a pretty long hiatus now. It could last for up to three months but I'm hoping I might be ready to start posting again by late August.  
> During this time I will be editing all posted chapters of this story (fixing the things I'm not happy about) as well as trying to write ahead when I can. I'll also be writing on my fic Adamantine (previously called The Eagle and the Mockingbird).
> 
> I know so many of you love this story so I just want to say it is not, nor will ever be, abandoned. I will keep writing until the bitter end lol. Also, your kind words and comments always make me smile and I love you guys so much, don't ever think I'm going on hiatus because you haven't "said enough good things" or something. The reason I feel like I must go back and edit is because of my own stupid brain that can't move past small mistakes, lmao  
> I will also be editing my fic Castle, if anyone is interested in knowing ;)
> 
> I will try to keep you guys updated on my Tumblr though so if you want to, you can go follow me (username: @etherina) You may also send asks or just message me if you have questions or just wanna talk, don't be shy <3 
> 
> I love you all and will be back as soon as I feel ready<3


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